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Dead child
poetry [ ]

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by [Ackivasha ]

2005-06-02  |     | 

Without wanting, day by day,
We destroy our childish soul.
What we do and what we say
Are so different and so dull .

Time is riding on wind’s wings
And the wind is flying fast,
The alarm of soul’s bell rings
Telling not to lose the past.

But we’re deaf , the child screams
He’s in pain, his death is near,
Calls for mercy , no one hears
How from darkness falls a tear.

Silence slowly cracks the shade
Child’s voice is now so quiet
Joy and laughters soon will fade,
Grown-up's life is really silent….

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