Blindfold

BLINDFOLD I hear childrens voices filled with laughter and noise, hopscotched in endless streets, mingling in sometime dreams. I hear childrens laughter, pitching above the hum drum, of spectacled, so called carers all ! For your own good merchants. I hear childrens tears falling, In a rain storm of scary thunder, beating a retreat in bricks and mortar. Those merchants of care, no where. I see the gaggle of childrens tongues, burning in that mist of cordite, spectators; comment do nothing. Carers eyes burn in guilt and greed. I see children, i see children, I see nothing, commiting to human! In hells morning, in flames of religion, I see dead children, i see nothing.