There’s a girl in a room
and it’s dark and it’s cold
and she’s angry and scared
and she’s not very old.
And she’s hoping that someone will notice her cries
as she once thought they would,
but each day her hope dies.
“They’ve planes and they’ve kings,
and thousands of things,
and they’re nothing but chains and lies.”
Her tears flow down every river,
she whispers in every town,
and she’s everywhere that isn’t fair
but her cries are being drowned.
Yet the hard dead world turns onward,
deaf to the pleas of the weak.
But at the last, all that’s past is due to those who speak.
For every child is born with the right
to dream about fixing what others incurred,
and every child is born with the sight
to see through the darkness a whole new world.
linked to http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com and part of Blog for Peace day 2013