by Sophie Chronopoulos
When I was little you cooked up a life for me,
and I enjoyed it.
Mum's cooking is the best.
Now I'm just being polite.
I know it used to be my favourite,
but I've had enough.
I'm not hungry and it all tastes like chicken.
Give it to the dog,
send it to the starving children,
I don't need it anymore.
I don't want to offend you,
I know you went to a lot of effort
and I'm very grateful.
Could I get away with knocking it on the floor?
Would you believe it was an accident?
Or do I have to finish every last mouthful.
I'm not even halfway through.
No, there's nothing wrong with me.
I'm just tired and I've had enough.