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យើងគួរនាំគ្នាកាត់បន្ថយការរិះគន់ ការទិតៀនគ្នា និងគួរចែករំលែកចំណេះដឹង គំនិតយោបល់ល្អៗដល់អ្នកដែលនៅជុំវិញយើង។

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How I remember my bitter childhood I was always frightened like a bird and shaken up like a child crisscrossing through the wars. I was beaten up like a criminal and worked up like a slave. I feared the nights and was scared of the days. I lived a life in fear and of destitute. Happiness was never a part of my experiences. I scavenged the piles throughout the days in hope of luck. Never had enough to eat; hunger and thirst never left me. I worked in trenches and scanned through the days for food. I crawled the nights away in hope of finding a golden sack that snuck away in fields. How I feared and dreaded the death of my own soul in the dark and lonesome ghostly nights. I worked and worked and worked all kinds. I could never mind any sweatshop. I painted my own portrait out of my tears from the sufferings. I cried until my soul fell asleep; and my own life pitied on my existence.