The kids don't stand a chance

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
The rich dies in public while the poor dies in silence.

Submitted: October 06, 2014

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Submitted: October 06, 2014

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The Kids don't stand a chance

As I lay in my bed, I can't help but feel bad that somewhere, some time tonight...

A poor child will be dead. There'll be no justice; It is something, society will easily forget.

The streets will always be painted red, and society will always show less care: thereupon people will continue enjoying the night.

The morning I'll wake up, and find the story in the papers so as I'll read, I'll also discover a young girl kidnapped by some rapist.

See to where this tragedy had led, it could've been avoided, instead we became pusillanimous; And for this we'll always live in regret.

It's a sadness that overwhelms my heart, a tear in my eye, And no words left to protect that which I so dearly love.

Do we give up? Since we've left ourselves defenseless, for it seems we're now the audience while the culprits became the entertainers.

We have no make a start, the tears will only dry. What remains of us when we're thus unable to ask help from above?


© Copyright 2019 Damian Vincent Henry. All rights reserved.

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