Throughout this wide world, a common foe. <br />The empty day, painful nights. <br />How many families have slept night after night <br />After dining face to face with an empty plate? <br /> <br />Children crying, helpless mothers <br />Waiting for destiny to become kinder <br />The fear, the abjection, the dream <br />Not to desire, not to die. <br />Body aching, bones that cannot move, <br />Tired out, cannot. <br /> <br />Lacklustre paths, wrong and right <br />Fades into indifference. Whenever differences arise <br />Between people from here or there, <br />Colours and customs, languages and arts <br />There is no differences between the syndrome <br />And the symptoms <br />And the fear and the pain that wait <br />Of the achingly empty plate. <br /> <br />Copyright: Rani Turton<br /><br />Rani Turton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-syndrome-of-the-empty-plate/
