Wishful Thinking

I short poem about hope for the future.

Plates full of the finest foodery laid out before empty chairs
Send their heavenly aromas to fill my nostrils,
And tempt my taste buds.

I sit with an empty belly before a plate full of maggots,
Hunger threatening to bring madness, fork in hand,
But I will not eat.

Bountiful platters laden with the finest of foods surround me,
Mouth waters with desire; my soul needs to be fed,
But I cannot reach.

Paper chains bind me in place, I stretch and reach to no avail,
But surely I can break these petty bonds of paper.
I should try once more.

Inhaling deep, the sweet aroma of divine delicacies
Brings with it strength beyond my wildest fanatasies,
In a moment: Freedom!