The Cries of the Children

[ Index


The clear sky
it's raining
pure blood
the blood of children.
All the fear
built up in me
it boils and burns.
I'm one of those children
some of that blood is mine.
Why was I tortured so?
Why is it my blood?
Why do the children
live in such misery?
The fear of waking up,
waking up knowing
it's just another day,
a day of torture?
Why can't we
only for once
wake up
not having to worry
what pain will,
will engulf us?
The Fear's ego pride.
I'm one of those children,
and I cry!

Copyright (c) 1995 Morticia

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