hunger pains.

The problem is When you're at the bottom you feel like not getting up again Like the world finally decided to shun you a out of its space And you feel like going back in would be a forced intrusion But at the same time you know, That going back in would yield greater rewards than this misery you confine yourself to And maybe there would be more problems along the way But the arrogance of success is that you feel that the world is beneath you Hence the challenge would be accepted, if not considered a stone compared to the rock you just brought to pieces. A lot of them tell that they know of hunger pains That rock a belly like pins that pierce through skin And their constant presence is of utter annoyance And yes they bother you, but your attention is shifted toward ensuring that no outside faces see Lest they write an open book about you to the world... And it's awfully coincidental That by the time they make of your struggles they gotta laugh at you first before they help But reverse the situation and they see you help with all dignity Then again they laugh at you for the fool you are Because laughter is like compounding pain to an already salted would And to a man who has seen it all, laughter is the epitome of disrespect And they wonder why you always keep a low tone Maybe it's because you've seen it all, or that the sight reminded you of your own struggles And the train of thought returned you to the sleepless nights you so often spent subsiding hunger with water Forgetting that a couple of minutes ago you were feasting on steak with a pasta salad of grated cheese But the ultimate ***ery is You become dead broke you feel alone You become dead rich you feel alone The problem is, I guess That without success, one feels like they're not alive, Or better yet, undeserving to be.