Dear God,
I am just getting home again. Another night. A few more dallors in my pocket. I wonder if it's worth it, then I realize that I don't really have a choice anymore. I pray to you every night Lord that someday myself and my three daughters will be free from this life of abuse and fear. But days turn into weeks and weeks into months and still this life of poverty continues.
Sometimes I hear the Americans speaking about how things are in America and I start to become jealous and this yearning to be where they come from comes over me that I sometimes start to cry. …
