Pangs
.jpg)
After a long day of scavenging, Under the scorching sun, With unsuccessful attempts, The tired man,finally retires to bed, So exhausted and weak, Thoughts deluge his mind, Growling of his stomach rents the silence, He becomes prey,for hunger devours him up, On his back,he stares at the roof, As if to prove,his life is of no use, At a point he talks to himself, For all along, alone he is, Tick tack the clock clocks,somnolently he becomes, In the tiny bed,himself he curles, Vividly ignoring the hunger pangs, "Every dog has it's....." Tomorrow will be his day,Optimistically he believes. @theluopoet Art by Saatchi Art.