Children of the Past

Broken bones, bruised and cut
Night after night, tight, as a torqued nut
Beatings as lessons, wrought
By the hand that rocks the cradle, taught
Silence is golden
This child to be beholden
Suffocating pains that surge
From a constant scourge
To end this life
The thought comes on the edge of a knife
To take away, steal his thrill
Would drive insane, his will
As a tingle moves, soft and caring
A touch that calms, those thoughts are wearing
A peace transforms
Embracing warms
This child’s heart to live
With all there is to give
As children of the past
Their spirits appear at last
Comforting in empathy
Protecting from the enemy
Fighting for their memory
This child lives, for his new family


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