The mother clutched at her emaciated form,
The baby lay limply in her arm.
Can she blame the world, or, only herself?
Who can bring her baby back to her healthy self?
...
In spite of all privations
I used to sing in private
Because life had given
Me joy to live and love
...
As life kept churning into a vortex
My consciousness sucked down under
My soul, shackled in chain, did protest
Freedom, oh, lift me from this gutter.
...