Hear the children's laughter?
Filled with joyous song of
Charity, love and hope
Of a brighter tomorrow.
Their lives only a blur
Of reality and love.
No time to grope or mope
Or to even show sorrow.
Hear the children's weeping?
Filled with desolate despair
Confusion and painful
Memories of the past.
No more children's singing
Only living a nightmare
Bound in a beautiful
Tapestry forever cast.
Hear the children's terror?
Filled with sleepless nights,
Queer feelings of isolation
In a world that doesn't care.
Leaving no room for error,
I see no more moon twilight,
Or anymore living motion.
Now I can start to prepare...
Hear the children's silence?
I invite death openly,
Bitterly cold, dreary and dark.
Inviting a better world.
Filled with less turbulence,
And chaos which closely
Resembles the landmark
Of what could only be hell uncurled.
March 15, 1991
March 15, 1991
ROBERT W KOVACS
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