scraps

Father, I’m hungry,

I’m desperate to eat.

If the food on the table,

Is not meant for me,

Please give me the scraps,

That fall underneath.

For I struggle to feel,

As though I deserve,

The rights to heal,

When others are worse.

So please, by all means,

Heal them, they need it.

When the table is clean,

I’ll take what’s beneath it.