Pasta Shells

Up since 8, last night I stayed up late. Rushing out the door, With no time to eat before. Six hours passed, of hard labor My stomach growling I head home fast Lunch break time, I have food on my mind. I open the fridge, double take, triple take.. I search with a stomachache I pace and pace. My leftovers were thrown away. No I am not okay. Call me dramatic or call me weak. But that pasta was my happiness at it's peak. Falling fast not slowing down, I begin to break, falling to the ground. Everyone despises me, everyone around. But they don't understand the person behind this frown. Imagine how sad and empty my life, If all I had to look forward to was a bite. Now it's gone Everyone is quick with the names Brat, spoiled, fat They have no shame. I wipe my tears, I only have myself Maybe one day, I'll have more to look forward to Than some pasta shells.