"Why?" I wonder to myself.
I remember, I do.
I wanted a bite.
My stomach craved it so!
But all I got was a fleeting image
Of my dear mother.


Their hands were rough
And their words cruel.
Not alone; I hear the others scream.
All dirty and bruised,
Just waiting to be sold like used tools.

Oh, how misfortune comes for us all!
No more a child but a teen of thirteen
This little boy only sought to be seen.
He thirsts for his dear mother's sweet embrace
But can only settle for her picturesque face.

All he wanted was a bite,
And yet he gained quite a fright.
Stuck in a gloomy room with nothing;
Barely any food.
His stomach grumbles as his thoughts tumble.
He remembers every time,
His life is definitely not sublime
Having been filled...