Starvation

We stand naked with our ribs protruding out of our skin and our bellies round and bloated. I hear the rumbling of my stomach and the wailing cries of others amongst us. Rainwater collected in puddles and morsels of food found in the streets is our main source of nourishment. My tongue is dry and heavy as I try to bring some moisture to my cracked and bleeding lips. The dense, stale bread we had been given by the men and women that came to see us scrapes down my throat as I quickly try to swallow my last piece. The bread helps to stop the hunger but it only tastes of parchment and dust. They are here again and I reach out to them. They look on at us with sorrow in their eyes but they step away in fear as if we are a contagious disease they don't want to be exposed to. The other children jostle each other, trying to get the biggest scrap for themselves. It is the first time I will eat today and I need to fill my belly with as much as I can get. My stomach churns and screams of pain explode through the taught skin of my abdomen. No one hears; no one cares; no one comes to comfort me. The others are too focused on their own survival. We can only endure so much suffering before our bodies give in.