Don't cry for the children
who walk upon broken glass
swim in the oceans of confusion
are humiliated for unrespected passions
poisoned with the fruits of evil
perished in the fires of hollow hearts
dropped from the towers of humans
and born from shaky hands.
Cry for what you call yourself,
if you can't seem to care.
Don't cry for the children
who bleed in the war of trust
sip from the rivers of death
walk in the shadows of shivers
play the strings of sadness
ask from an unforgiving God
dream stolen memories
and turn over frozen leaves.
Cry for what you call yourself,
if you can't change their destiny.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
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