Written by: Shreya Venkatachalam, 14
Stubby nails claw at my throat,
Scratch at the growing emptiness
My toes curl against the rough dirt under me,
The barren dirt.
Chapped lips whisper out another silent moan,
To placate my parched mouth.
I whimper for something,
Dirty drops of water,
But the growl of hunger
That embarrassingly escapes me,
My head bows down in
Noticing the worn out rags
Do little to cover the
And scaly skin.
Why can I not taste the ambrosia of
Why can I not relish the warmth of a
Please tell me,