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