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Abnormally I began, what was I only six,
When I first felt the surge of desire to eat mud with a side order of sticks.
My scourge & my fire, to swallow what I will, only dragged me in, what I shouldn't digest and so much more.
I left nothing to regret, for these crazy cravings, they want what t they get.

One in a million and incurable, I'll feed on what you view as strong and durable, trying in vain to eat all that's inedible, before you say it I'm not gullible, I've just had a gullet full, of all the things you never would like curtain hooks, currency, glass and wood.

Old and locked away in a mental asylum, they say it's best this way but still I break free, out into nearby woods I taste the first tree, that old sensation, tears come in floods, as I resign myself to incarceration.
Yet in my heart and my mind I'm still free, no longer blind or bound by hypocrisy.

At the lapdog of heavenly paradise, with the pearly gates far behind, I sit discussing my disgusting flaws, I hope in my mind I died from natural cause.

About this poem

I read an article l e about a old ma in an asylum who used to try & break out so he could eat twigs, bark & all sorts of other worldly things. That affliction is called pica.

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Submitted by Noughtysyd on June 21, 2021

1:01 min read

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    "Pica" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 2 Dec. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/103205/pica>.

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