what is given can be taken

The hunger pains began to fade like yesterdays leftovers
In fact the burning in the pit of my stomaach,
didn't feel like I had swallowed a glass of acid and lived to tell.
Though my clothes are filthy,
and I smell like the sewer I sleep next too.
It stopped bothering me months ago,
although I can't say that for those who walk past me,
nose turned and covered with sparkly clean fingers.
Slanted eyes pry and ponder,
a story of what brought me here and left me to fade,
smaller and smaller until they could see right through me.
Pan handling lasted for awhile
then dumpsters behind resturants,
was like eating at a fine diner.
Bathing was optional,
when I could sneak to a gas station bathroom,
hair matted and shoved as neatly as can be in a ratted ponytail.
The first few weeks death seemed like a sweet fairytale
wanting, tempting me into loving arms.
Security I had never felt before.
The feeling of never having another worry
washed over me like a warm bubble bath.
These past years have made me strong though,
mentally aware that
what is given, can be taken
and what has been taken
can be given back.
And from there who knows what.....