daily the same deprived souls struggle along.
eyes weeping, hearts barely beating.
swollen limbs thrown aside,
we hung on in agony,
heads leaning weakly.
no longer hungry,
still, it troubled me; it tasted of despair.
condemned crouching upon death.
I gave my all, slightly not enough.
A “found” poem from years ago. Sadly, I don’t remember the original piece.