Bitterness, misery, goodness,
cruelness, to be afraid is that
the teachings of childhood.
Soul’s chrysalides in youth,
imprisoned in the beliefs of a
grown-up world, no way to
escape to their own reflections.
The chrysalis sealed, dust
collecting in the crevices of
thought, hate; potential drained,
silence must remain. Roads long,
the climbs steep, and the tiny soul
a relic; life is bleak. Torn, dingy,
life damned; the prison walls never
come down. The question must be
who will avenge the children, why
was their childhood crushed. God or
“Human Free Will”, who allows a
child’s life to wither and die; who hears
the cries; who puts the small body to rest.
Look closely at the clouds; at the tiny souls
away they fly, who will avenge them, why
did they have to die?
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