I hear their weeping I don't understand why
I feel their tears descending from the atmosphere
I see their faces in the night's sky
I see the anguish that saturates their eyes
with-in the limbs of weeping willow trees
their hands stretch out desiring to touch me
flowing with the breeze their torment envelops me
forgotten souls of children without a place to go
as I walk this earth they walk alongside me
unsettled spirits of the children
endeavoring for answers wandering this earth
when I close my eyes to sleep
their child-like voices cry out to me
calling my name pleading with me
my every being tormented
suffering great mental anguish
with the knowledge of what I hear and see
we create life then we take that life away
men women beating their kids killing them
low lifes stealing a child's innocence
bleeding hearts saying their punishment is too harsh
they might as well of played a part
About the Creator
A. Keith Clement
I write poetry and short stories it is a necessity for me. It keeps me happy.
Without knowing it until I was forty-seven, my life has been a work in progress that began in my youthful years as a child and has continued to this day.
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