June 10, 2009
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I feel my stomach gurgle.
I feel the dirt floor in my hut.
I feel the weakness in me.

I taste the tears that trickle down my face.
I can taste the meal I wish I could have.
I taste the saliva in my mouth.

I hear the people the people sobbing and fighting over food.
I hear the silence every day.

I see the bones stick out of my skin.
I look around my little hut waiting for my next meal.
I see weak people walking about.

I smell rotting bodies sitting.
I can smell all the animals that are dying off.

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