The hollow ache in my stomach, a constant companion,
a bluesy serenade to poverty's symphony.
Ramen noodles, my lifeblood, a symphony of sodium,
fueling the engine of late-night cramming,
dreams simmering in the broth of borrowed textbooks.
Sleep, a luxury I can ill-afford,
traded for stolen moments between classes,
curled on the library floor, knowledge my only blanket.
Laughter, a distant echo from a life I can't recall,
replaced by the relentless hum of fluorescent lights
and the frantic scribbling of notes on borrowed paper.
Friends, a concept I hold at arm's length,
lest their carefree revelry exposes the threadbare fabric
of my existence. Envy, a serpent coiled in my gut,
as I watch them flit through sun-drenched days,
unburdened by the weight of empty pockets and soaring tuition.
But beneath the calloused hands and weary eyes,
burns an ember, fanned by the bellows of hope.
Each sunrise, a new battle cry,
each conquered exam, a brick laid on the path
to a future where ramen noodles are but a memory,
and dreams become a feast, shared with the world.
For in the crucible of struggle, resilience is forged,
a spirit that cannot be bent, a heart that will not break.
And when I finally stand, diploma clutched in hand,
it will be a testimony to the sacrifices made,
not to poverty, but to the unyielding hunger
for a life beyond the confines of an empty bowl.
Read more poem here: https://flecksofvariedcolors.blogspot.com/