The little child

The little child,
a victim of circumstances,she is young,she is innocent,
laughter was a form of happiness long forgotten,
a luxury she cannot afford,
to the passing man,she is a child,
With a mother and father who waits lovingly for her return,
a mother who will tuck her in and sing her lullabies,
a father who would love her unconditionally,
and buy her that pair of red slippers she's been dying for,
yes,the one with the yellow hearts.

But she is no child,
Hands meant for play,are hard at work,
she forgets when was the last time something made her smile,
The eyes,the windows to the soul they say,
But her windows,are opaque and shattered,
terror is blind,for a child dies,gripped by it's titanic strength,
a mother cries,a father is listless,
for their child died today,
like the little child,is only a part of many,
Some say the soul will be at peace,
when loved ones are around,
what about the children who's departure mean nothing,
to the world,
who will weep,when that nameless child dies?..

No one makes a sound,
listening to the truth that's found,
and they know,its their fault,
they didn't save them,they could have saved them
if they cared,
there would have been children here.

Children know laughter,
they know peace,
they do not discriminate,
and they know acceptance,
they know rejection,
and they know joy,
They Do know tears,
But most of all,they also know pain.....


+Dedicated to children everywhere..You are loved+