In his hands was food,
he didn't care what.
He needed the pain to stop.
In his guts a monster had taken hold,
twisting,
tugging,
stabbing at his insides.
Eating would stop it,
but only for a while,
because in only 45 minutes,
he will regret his binge.
So he will eliminate the evidence.
He will disappear from everyone's view,
and emerge with red eyes,
and bitten, sore lips.
On his knuckles are callouses,
and on his teeth, stains.
In his stomach there would be nothing though,
and he would feel good again.
Until later,
when the pain would return,
and he would eat, and eat, and eat, and eat.
Then he would be filled with regret,
and the cycle continues.
It is his curse,
and he will bare the effects for his whole life.
YOU ARE READING
Seven Deadly Sins Poem
PoetrySeven Poems, each about one of the seven deadly sins, without using the word of their sins, or related words (ie. no rage to describe Wrath). Enjoy my writing challenge for myself.
