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The hunger burning at the pit of my soul,
Not to feed but to devour.
Not to survive but to savour.
Every breadth of the taste and every bite of the smell,
It takes control.
Like a stuffed doll held by its strings,
I have no control of my own.
It calls for me and pulls me in,
My mind split in two.
One for now and the other for later,
One is weak, the other too.
A battle that doesn’t seem to end but how is that,
I always lose.
Never content, never empty,