She just looked,
no sight in her eyes.
as they turn into her turmoil.
He just sighed,
no hope in his soul,
as he lives on the streets.
Their young lives stolen by adults too bound up with pleasure
that they abandon the child of their loins, some sold, and
the little hands and feet beat a rhythm in their rags of the
sounds that are wound around their lives of calls and cries,
screams and tears stream down their dirty faces making
those tracks that blind adults ignore, whoring the little ones
piteously, hideously lasciviously taken their spirit to spit
it out and still the films are churned our teaching them
to spurn the family life that returns to a child their hope,
dignity and conformity to a way of life of security.
