The Children
THE CHILDREN
Their tiny legs run to find no place to hide,
The children cry again as dark moves in,
As the shadowy sneer, evil’s grin
The children’s untimely fate, of being plucked from mother’s side,
And the children tried to but they slipped, that’s when the children slide
To be wolfed down in a world that has given up, a world worn thin,
The empty playground now, no laughter coming from within,
As the children cower, smaller and smaller for somewhere to hide,
When their mothers search feeling for them in the dark,
Distraught, forlorn, their mothers are ripped, their mothers are torn,
Children of their womb, children so close to every beat of mother’s heart,
When the children cry, cries of regret at having been born,
Shredding of innocence - stories unbelievable - the gut-wrenching part,
Up, and out of the nightmare - and the children still can’t be found in the morn.
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