Unintentionally Sharp

I hate that I loved it most

at its weakest

I did not eat dry toast

or monotonous meals

My secret was dying a little

while trying not to die a lot

The small sad voice said,

yes! To ribs and hip bones

Sharpness is Good

Nothing to pinch is Right

You have finally arrived

I write of indulgence and freedom

But I too fall prey

Who can hear the kinder voice

Under the trumpet call of deprivation

these days