We are your children.
Our birth was not a rotting of your intestines.
We erred not to heed your advice.
We roamed the bewitched streets like fat city rats.
We search for your smile in the dark forest.
We hoped you would hear us when we cried.
Heal our open wounds.
We hoped you would wash our feet in warm water.
Break bread on your way home.
Look at us as we roam the dark alleys of this city.
Even the streets refuse to remember our names.