The Child.
you silence the crack of the hit,
with a hurting child’s cry.
a child just filled with fear and scare,
in this small town just waiting to die.
in the darkness of night runs a river of red,
a puddle soaks the white sheet bed.
the meaning of it all remains unsaid,
they watched as her body painfully bled.
|
Email this Poetry
|
Add to reading list





