A dried piece of bread or slice of wedding?

I have no patience for mindless conversations my needs are basic bare I hunger for a piece of dried bread or any morsel with some degree of sustenance to taste like wedding cake with hints of almonds and marzipan sometimes I struggle to remember blue jays, mockingbirds I watched as the last crows flew north to pastures, greener than the winding footpath overgrown with thorns the rose garden you so tenderly cared for a devil’s playground for rodents at night I am ashamed to admit that I beat my chest now and then but, the walls these cursed walls are colorless mute as ever