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All the Children

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All the children are dying,
And the sun is hot and frying.
They have no clothes on their back,
and an Uzi, Glock, and knife in their pack.

They march from town to town,
killing without the slightest frown.
Forced to work by their captor,
without the slightest sign of laughter.

Do you think that
they see life the same as you and me?
I think they can't,
And that's all because of me.





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haleyrl said...
Nov. 28, 2010 at 4:42 pm
I like your opening line. It made me want to keep reading, and I'm glad that I did. : )
 
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