When parents don’t have a choice and vanish
We, the hunted children of the urban jungle,
Inhale distorted dreams on an empty stomach
Falling asleep with stars and nightmarish rats
There is oxygen enough for the entire planet
Surprise us, please, with lullabies not bullets
We are afraid to grow up - as Fairies do not touch -
Only men with cold fingers in their perverted lust
“Let the children come to me...” - Hope Mountain echoes-
Above the World’s Stadium let kids’ pinata splatter
With candy for the rich and candy for the poor
We all belong together residing in our Hope…
Copyright 2011
Iolanda Scripca
Written for an International Documentary film...Check it out at: www.caprioleproductions.org
The little filthy secret of the economically rich Brazil is the assasination of the
poor "children of the streets" in its capital. They are considered a nuissance to the
rich and their lives...these poor kids are called "Street Urchins" and are victims of
drugs, prostitution and violence.
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