Hunger

I wake up to the sound of crying. Everyday, I hear the poor, watch their astonished eyes: they were having bread today. Their rumbling tummies were used to the hunger. Used to going days without food.
But they couldn't wait. The aroma had them under a spell, and they fought for crumbs. Scratching, clawing, hitting each other. Long bonds broken for a morsel of bread.
And yet, somewhere out there a person views their lunch disgustedly and throws it away. A perfectly good meal, PB&J.
Untouched, the poor snatch it from the trash. Bonds break, all for bread.