They say man cannot live by bread alone, but I am no Man. I am a woman with my ribs on display and no heart to beat a lasting song. Bread and its crumbs and salty crust is enough to feed my spine for an entire lifetime. With a large, full belly, maybe I will amount to a Tower tall enough to reach every star in the sky. My bread aches to be pruned with pomegranate and lime but I am still alive nonetheless. Starvation makes the winds gobble me whole and brings poetry to my nimble hands. It is gasoline for lights that blind me, so bright it must not be Man-Made.
I can shove breadcrumbs in the fuel tank of my car. Like a pacing beast I leave a traceable footpath, one the men, who like to eat deer and lively souls, can stalk me down. It is good, for they do not know, the ground beneath them will crumble as soon as they reach my doorstep. My muscles are mighty with soft bread, eyes with a hunger not known to Man, and claws sharpened from rocks of the wilderness. The sight of me will bewilder Man as there is so much they do not know. Man cannot live by bread alone but I mold my worship by its bedside.
Gracious & Grazielle
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