Just a Bowl of Rice

As I fill my bowl with steaming rice, I recount the years I have spent in this world of ours. I remember that I was a miserable little girl, only eating rice throughout my whole life. The rice was oh so tasteless, so I sprinkled them with tears I got from memories that made me cry. You might think it is gross, but it’s the closest I had to salt. We were so poor that we couldn’t even afford salt. As I stuffed my face with rice, I continued pouring tears in my bowl of rice, making it a soup of tears. I cried so hard, as to why my life is like this. Even so, it filled my hunger, and I was contented. I realize that it is not so bad eating rice seasoned with tears, because rice without tears, is oh so tasteless.