By Judith Alciatore
Tears pour down like salted rain
But none can wash away
The anguish and the mortal pain
Inflicted every day.
Upon the pure and innocent
Upon the helpless souls
Who live and die in misery
From days so long and cold.
Upon the hapless little ones
Who never get to see
A sunrise or a starry night
How can we let this be?
Tears pour down like salted rain
But none can wash away
The hurt engendered once again
By things we do and say.
No comments:
Post a Comment