The Monsters of Children
Downward the eyes face,
trying to blend,
wishing for a bigger place.
For wounds from Monsters rarely mend.
With cackle and glee,
the Monsters near.
Upon his face I see,
Pain, not fear.
After sowing torment,
the pleased Monsters up and leave,
Leaving the Child to lament,
And me to grieve.
The Monsters sneer,
Clinging to their mother's skirt,
Notice not the pain so clear,
or the hidden hurt.
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