On those days the rock
Of courage could not stand
Against the onslaughts of
Mighty tides of perpetual
Hunger, bugs feasted merrily
On black blood through
Thin skin of poverty; we rolled
On cold floor in winter taking
It as a joke; lighting hearths
Had brought pleasure to the
Famished souls;
Crows never sat on the roof
To bring good luck and visitors;
Doors and windows were kept
Closed lest they should make
Sketches of our bodies and
Sell them in the market place.
Days Of Hunger
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