I starve, though food’s in the pantry
And there’s victuals in the fridge.
But everything that’s edible
Is as sustaining as a midge.

I have a need food can’t fulfill,
Despite how much chocolate I’d eat.
I see myself wasting away
Like morale when armies retreat.

There’s no one that could give me love
Or who’d be content to barter.
I’d gladly give my heart away
If I could just be love’s martyr.