Without a scar in the world

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Smiling faces and dirty, uncaring hands
Clenching the Earth, throwing mud around freely.
The fresh fruit of youth run valiantly,
With ignorance and joy shrouding there existence.

Of candy, chocolate and toys,
With the heart of greatest and mind of bliss,
The racing feet dart back and forth, with
Truth running in there veins.

The carefree world of the still growing,
Playing restlessly on the lawn, never stopping
For any grain of time. With the non bearing fruits
Of labor upon there hands; they walk;
They smile; they roam; they wander
To wherever there white wings take them.





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