Lamentations 4:4-5, 9-10

The tongue of the infant cleaves To the roof of its mouth because of thirst; The little ones ask for bread, But no one breaks it for them. Those who ate delicacies Are desolate in the streets; Those reared in purple Embrace ash pits.

Better are those slain with the sword Than those slain with hunger; For they pine away, being stricken For lack of the fruits of the field. The hands of compassionate women Boiled their own children; They became food for them Because of the destruction of the daughter of my people.