I.
oh, sweet child
she was born
on cushions
everything she needed
was within reach
capacity
she had capacity
and sweet smile she had
for she lived happily
under concrete roofs
though when she grew up
laughter sounded far away
like lost in time
day by day
sunrises don't hit her eyes
any longer than peace
touch her mind
and she lost her sight
unable to grasp
her own life.
II.
oh sweet child
she was born
on hardwood
everything she needed
were out of reach
or rather
she got some but
capacity
full capacity was beyond her
freedom's a hoax
happy was she
to small presents
until she grew up
earned silvers
and all the little things
became as it is—little
for not a thing
satisfies her anymore
than a million.
III.
oh sweet child
he was born
on the concrete
of sidewalks
echoing rumbles
—it's what he hears
in his stomach
above and on each side
everywhere he turns
—chaos
freedom
he's laughing outside
but there was no freedom
imprisoned was he
for beneath angry skies
nights are sleepless
and sometimes, he runs
there he runs
trying to grow up
to get by
to breathe for one more day.
IV.
oh, children
of differing times and places
where there's space
there's you
no one could take that away
one might long
for meaning
the other one
to seek more
then the last one
only wants to survive
all walk on roads
completely different
yet cobbled all the same
some stones bigger than others
a pilgrimage
with varying reasons
ultimately
to make sense
of the nuances of life
each looking
for something to hold onto
even for a while.
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