Oh Suffer The Little Children
Her children cry alone in the darkness of a singular forgotten time,
Where hardships and lessons are learned
and secrets are kept in the recesses of their mind.
Few in the land… if any even feign care,
Where haughty insolence is prevalent
And shame blows freely on black winds of despair.
Pity it is, oh testament to the times
with sorrowful children corrupted by deviant minds.
I feel in heart of this sting,
I cringe of the injustice, which justice fails to bring.
For my words are but mere whispers
Which spill forth into a silent slow leak
My voice hath no power, as my lips fail to speak.
For her children stand alone and cry out for a moral justice,
They cry on false hopes that only no hope can bring.
Oh suffer the little children
In a land where corruption, and dishonor is king.
J. Allen Wilson © 2005