The Syrian boy

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
In memmory of the 3 year old Syrian boy who died brutally.

Submitted: October 26, 2014

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Submitted: October 26, 2014

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I come from war,

I'm use to pain.

Existence disdain,

Soul with a scar.

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No more nobility, 

Thus replaced with profanity.

A desolated history.

Scourged upon a broken history,

Mixed emotions; random insanity.

Men incapable of humility.

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Remember what you did?

Look at my face, do you like what you see?

Scars on face of a young, innocent kid.

Because of you not even God would recognise me.

...........................................................................................................................................................................

 

 

I'm a child of abuse, 

Just like many other for whom the world has no use.

And to you I became a thing.

But when I get to heaven I'm gonna tell God everything.

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© Copyright 2018 Damian Vincent Henry. All rights reserved.

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