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Nothing
A yellow jug.
Meant to hold diesel.
Now carries a gallon of water.
Dragged five miles there and back.
From a dirty well.
An eight year old
Makes the trek
Everyday
To bring water for his family
Murky
Brown
Filthy
Rocks and dirt float to the top.
A bowl of rice to last a week.
If that.
Sickly.
Bones stick out.
His body feasting on him.
Hard dusty ground
Is where he sleeps.
No blanket to keep him warm
No pillow for him to rest his head
With ten family members sharing the small space
People
Worlds away
With their stocked pantries
And clean sheets
And bottled water
Neglect to think about how privileged they are
Compared to the little boy
And countless others like him.
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