Children in Poverty.
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Take 1 Fighting, flying, fun, and frightening Home was rough, and school was nothing. Together as four was better than one. To grow up with siblings means that I've won.
In the darkest lairs comes raging tears when summer shines and winter snows. The tales of blood and the splash of guts to tell of our homely woes. When death will stalk and hunger hugs and gives a warmly moan.
Dear child, I love you, Just know. I see the hunger, The starvation. I see your bellies, full of worms. I see your homes, full of dirt. I see the poverty,