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Think of the little children

So many times we’ve decided, “Its time we split up!”,
But then we find we just can’t give up.
It’s not for each other; it’s for the children we care,
On them it’s unfair,
They stand in the corner helpless and bare.
There’s so much to remember my daughter, my son,
But all I can think of is myself on the run,
And who am I trying to get away from? You or the grave?
When I look deep inside it’s myself I’m trying to save!
Selfish! Cruel!
Like a stoney hearted fool!
I can feel it’s icy coldness against my temple as I level the gun,
And a voice deep inside saying, “No! Think of your son!”
As my finger tightens on the trigger,
I can see the out line of his little figure,
With his hands clasped together,
As he says goodbye…forever!

10 Jan 12

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(5 more poems by this author)

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