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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Political · #1856423
Violence against children is a global issue.
No lullabies from mother, her mouth full of flies.
No cries from her baby who stares at the sky,
Children are torn from grandfather’s grasp,
while Fire Roses bloom from the tires and gas.

Pressed into service for pleasure and toil
Kalashnikoff kiddies soon bleed in the soil.
And those that survive and rise from the dead
will find themselves mauled in their commandant’s bed.

One look in their eyes will tell you it's true
that monsters exist in a room with a view
and hide in plain site while authorities crow
"We're not to blame, we didn't know".

The Pied Piper of Power who calls to your babies
to make little soldiers like puppies with rabies,
have been at their posts and remain just as long
as it’s not their own children who suffer from wrong.

Without arms to hold them they're armed for the war,
"Don’t worry" they say "there’s always some more."
"No one will notice if the witness is dead,
we won't waste the breeders but the children instead."

But let's bring it all home as I mention this fact
of two thousand children who die from neglect.
Every year this occurs in the land of the free,
this crime of ommission is a mystery to me.

But venting our outrage with moral objection
might hasten this Kony to his due destruction.
Then let's turn our disgust to the problem at hand
and protect our own children who die in this land.

The invisible children who live in the dark,
who we never see playing in the streets or the park.
But tied to the bed by their collar and chain
while we form new committees and legislate blame.

No lullabies from mother, her mouth full of food.
No cries from the baby who stares at the tube.
Torn from their childhood in fear and neglect
we've all work to do in removing the speck.

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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1856423