The Child Without a Home
without a home,
and i felt undeserved..
For i complained
i wasn’t served,
as she slept under the sky dome..
I said i didn’t like my meal,
and threw it on the street..
And she came from the shadows,
thanking God another wound was healed,
and picked it up on her bare feet..
Her scars were open and still fresh,
her blond hair dripping oil..
Her lost eyes and trembling hands,
her drags,one with the soil..
I saw the child without a home,
a family or a toy..
Was this girl born to die alone??
Did she deserve no joy??
Dancing with a torn teddy in her arms,
under the realm of God..
For finding even for a while
a way to forget the mud..
And that moment i shut the door,
and went back to the fire..
But it was not ”me” any more,
i had lost every desire..
And i felt sick for the voice inside,
that yelled she missed a lot,
where would the innocent soul now hide???
Rain was near,but we cared not..
I saw the child without a dream,
and i felt undeserved.
