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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.
Copyright ©
John Lusardi
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