5 March 2013
In the mud and the dust, like an animal, a child too weak longs for just a crust. But can't lift it's head to seek.
Every rib counted curled in a ball or rather legs buckled if they could be called legs at all.
Tiny hands clutch the grass a desperate hold on life how long can it last? starvation cuts like a knife.
Faintness, flutterings a shadow, mutterings A flash, pain... ...but no one came.
Just one Photo • Opuss № I