Eggs

I am an egg; trying to be alive, but knowing that in the end, I will always just be eaten. I am your breakfast.

Hard on the outside,
so many covers.
I can't pretend anymore.
The inside is many parts
many confusions
whites, yolks, fetus,
who knows?
But that's me.
I get picked when I come out
and I don't get to live.
I am chosen
so that I can be breakfast.
Or lunch.
Or dinner.
But never can I just be satisfied.

Never can I just be satisfied.