Soggy Bread

I didn’t finish, and for that I was punished
The sink, for my sandwich; a good place to dump it
For a time I thought I ought to be dead
When I felt a handful of soggy bread.

My lips had been chapped, flakey and brown
I licked and I licked till blood came down
It dripped and dripped till my coffee was red
But it wasn’t as bad as that soggy bread.

One day, a bandit, in a black mask
Broke in my home, stuffed things in his sack
He gave me a fright, and an awful dread
But nothing felt worse than that soggy bread.

My nana, beloved, in her last hour
Cried and then died, the stench became sour
Alone, I lifted her, limp from her bed
She felt much better than soggy bread.