Children

Books spread across the floor, Papers flown out like wings. Why do people concern themselves With such pointless things? Why do they care? Why do they rend and destroy? A child’s fragile heart Is not anyone’s toy. Yet still they surround, Leaving no place to hide, Destroying hidden hopes, Making the strong break and cry. Who are they to say, Who are they to know, What truly makes him happy, What truly makes him glow? It may just be simple, Just ribbons and strings Or the child may desire Much more complex things, Like a home that’s not broken, Or a person to say You are who you are And that’s surely okay, Or a mother not grieving, Nor a dad off at war, For what could a child Ever want more, Than a home that is happy, Full of laughter and light, And smiles so cheerful They seem far too bright? These seem far too simple To explain a child’s plight, But please understand Children fear the night. They hope for the good things, And not all the bad, And as they go to sleep, They pray for the sad. They hurt for the lonely, And feel for the weak, And pray that strength May be found by the meek. These children, just children, Both thoughtful and kind, Think of things most adults Should have on their mind. These children, yes children, Teach lessons so true, About learning to love Those who differ from you. So why don’t we all Just listen sometimes? The children will help us Fix all of our crimes. Then maybe someday, In the future perhaps, We’ll finally make up for The crimes of our pasts. For who can say that their life is guilt free? I don’t know about you, but I know it’s not me.