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Wary yet unaware.
  A skirt is torn, self belts become restraints.
  A painful reminder, grows inside her.
  An artist's heart, her arms a razor a paints.
  Child from him is what she must concur.
  An infant's cries silenced; mother to blame.
  Her father to the boy shoots up with lead.
  A hand covers her mouth, she hides in shame.
  One was so innocent, but both are dead.
  The angels cry, their tears-they shatter glass.
  A match is struck, two hearts weld into one.
  The priests; they pray s smoke wafts into mass.
  A silenced family; four souls are gone.
  And all of them-the world; it shall not miss
  Because it's true that ignorance is bliss.

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This article has 3 comments.
First sonnet I wrote. Make of it whatever you want because poetry is free for interpretation.