These are no children sleeping
But death claimed; tragic slaughter.
Someone’s son, someone’s daughter
Laid here in some dark corner,
Mischief hands have been at work,
Devil’s deeds for all to see
Along the road of history;
No one to claim innocent
If this should happen again
In some other time or place
By other cruel hands than those
Who committed this foul deed:
They have killed, but death has freed.
Poem By: Terry Collett
Submitted: Feb 15, 2008
Submitted: Feb 15, 2008
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