Poem: Children

" Children "

I have seen babies born happy, joyous and gay.

Full of energy and life, ready to play.

I seen them born hurt, damage, maimed, burnt and dead.

Never to live, never to try, never to play.

Yet babies grow and children they be.

To laugh, to play, to adventure the day.

But things can and do go wrong.

Children are not always safe.

Their youth, their life maybe taken and,or stolen away.

And still they grow, adults they may be.

Full of hopes, wishes and fantasies, they dream.

They work and reap the benefits of life.

Some do not work, some do nothing, a wasted life.

Some drain others of everything.

A few will become destroyers, monsters of what they see.

Onwards they grow, old they be.

To reminisce life, simple memories.

To dwell on and of lost things.

Of things that never would have or will be.

But whatever should or should be.

Is or has been.

Babies become children.

And children will or will not be.

By Syrbastyian Vzampfyier