The little boy was crumpled down;
On the dirt, on the mud, on the ground.
The delicate hand stretched with no strength;
So close, yet with such short length.
And so he lifted himself up with trouble;
Those eyes as big and shiny as a soap bubble.
The skeletal arms nearly breaking.
His body with an intense shaking.
The knee scraping on the aggressive floor;
A trail of blood is formed.
His accomplishment has to be preformed.
He doesn’t bring the pain to an end.
The painful journey still goes on;
To reach for the petite food his life depend upon.
And he finally grabs the crumbs of bread.
