Cold,
Hungry, Afraid of the other children stealing my lone possession,
My blanket,
My only protection from the bitter nights,

Another sleepless night,
Another oat in my empty stomach,
A man and woman walk in with a plate of food,
They search for a child to love,

I run with my weak legs towards them,
I face the children yelling,
“NO, NO” Scared of the children changing the adult’s minds,

I stop the other children from stealing my only hope, belief, future.
They laugh, thinking I’m cute,
The nuns take me out of the room away from the other children,

I sit with the adults in a white strange room,
All of my efforts of defense pay off as I am given the plate of food,
I have never tasted anything so warm, filling, replenishing,

They watch me shovel the food,
Thinking, pondering, whispering to one another,
They nod, smile at me
I never went back to that filthy room with the children,