Over the bowl,
I wretch.
Growing my soul,
I stretch.
Panic drives me
To relentlessly
Dispel this emptiness
Clawing and gnawing within.
There was so much that could’ve been done to prevent this.

Here I am; disappointed again.

There is nothing to heave;
For I have struggled to eat.
Nor is there anything to relieve
This incessant void in its attempt to devour me with jaws of defeat.