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Every day I see pictures of children

Black and blue, cuts, scrapes, burns, shot

They are always very shy, and hard to get close too

Victims of anger taken out on unpretentiousness

They didn’t have to do whatever thing they did

Just so happen to be in the line of fire

The ability to love, disregarded, rejected

Trust, skeptical, down the wrong path

Childhood is something that should be pleasant

Amusing, memorable, a time in life to grow, explore

A period when holidays are shared with family

Not hidden in a closet or stairwell

A smile on a child’s face is and should be cherished

For that child is the forthcoming, of expectations yet unknown

Unscrupulous days should not be bestowed on them

Hit a wall; throw something, empty your anger elsewhere

Don’t violate a child, destitute for your responsibility

If your conscious is guilty, this poem is for you

Take to heart and think before you strike

By Cynthia Aholelei © May 28, 2011