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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Arts · #2222021
Famine started in a small village like a war against the villagers.

The war began like a whisper,
whispering from doors to doors,
taking men out to whisper in agony.
Foods were taken off the tables.
People threading the street for food.

Families were scattered,
people were down wailing for help.
the strongs were fallen, the weaks dying.
People were eating dirt and faeces. People were quietly losing their dignity.

Names were not names anymore.
People losing their hold on life daily.
People eating other people,
lovers eating their love ones!
Men became lover of themselves.

A woman was carrying her dying son,
weakly on her tiny bony thigh.
All the boy needed was food,
just as she needed food too.
Yet, she couldn't eat her son like others.

Folks were waiting to steal the boy,
the woman looked heavenward,
she prayed as the boy whispered out.
she sighed, the boy would die no more.
The war had ended in him!
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