Childhood

While we help the country of others,

We forgot our own sisters and Brothers.

Some turn to thugs,

While others turn to drugs.

On the corner is a woman,

With no other option or plan.

Working to feed her kids,

Sold to anyone who bids.

Everyday a young child travels with death,

15 year old overdose on meth,

17 year old shot dead,

8 year old abused in own bed.

This isn’t right.

Yet, somehow, this is the sight.

Victims are fully grown men,

Killers are as young as ten.

I can mention knives,

With all the taken lives.

Or lets mention guns,

And all the dead sons.

Either way someone has a kill,

And a family is left with nil.

All a child has to remember is a tree,

While a killer walks free.

A young child locked up alone,

And grieving parents left with only pictures on a phone.