Going to an Early Grave

They haven’t hugged their parents enough, Haven’t smiled or giggled enough, Won't hear that corny joke tomorrow that will send them into a hysterical fit of laughter, Won’t learn to play rugby or soccer or football. These young eyes will not widen at a rare piece of candy Or close as their parents put them to sleep. But are they saved, To die with their innocent hope still intact, Saved from the slow degradation of their beliefs about “good,” Saved from more hunger and tears at seeing the people around them in pain, From hearing the innocent cry, From death presenting itself before their eyes, From watching their child die young from disease or circumstance?