Posted by: Ron DuBour | March 25, 2019

What kind of world can we leave our children with?~by Sharon Dina Rose Regala



What kind of world can we leave
our children with?

Would it still be a world
where dreaming is still free,
Or would it be a world
where dreams are only meant
to be dreamed about,
Where dreaming
Has become a privelege
for those chosen,
more fortunate ones?

The second question we need ask

What have we done to our children?
Those children of war…

Children without a choice
Children whom we’ve robbed
even of their most silent of voice.
Children raised with muted cries
Children who’ll live with,
half-closed bloodied eyes
Children out of their wits
DEATH, is the only possible price/prize.

A tomorrow without a future
only filled with horror and sorrow.

Too many are the young
Who have stopped dreaming,
Who only saw their lives
As damaged collaterals.
We’ve devoured the lives of our youth
Ravishing them off of their
innocence, leaving them without
even an ounce of confidence.

We’ve feasted on their vulnerability,
Enslaving them
with moral disability.
Embedding doubts on their minds
We made them question their self-worth,
forced them to believe
on the insignificance
of their most mundane existence.

We’ve destroyed
hopes in their hearts, in their eyes
We’ve ended their aspiration
of envisioning better lives.
Their desire to live in a world
where life is without worth,
is as dead as that of
a child’s cold corpse.

Can a wink
Make you see from a different angle
The lives we have chosen to strangle
with our hands we tied at the back,
instead of reaching out,
We opted not to give a care or a fuck.

Would a blink
Clear our visions,
To see the dilapidated moral state
Of all of our nations?
Would it make a difference,
Would it cleanse all of our conscience?

Would a wink or a blink…
Come unto you in the darkness of night,
knowing a child’s soul is in flight,
out to seek refuge
just to get away
run away
be away
to escape from such pitiful plight?

Can we breathe a breath without any guilt?

May the smoke of a child’s charred flesh,
burned alive not permeate
the air you breathe,
for you might know the smell of death
Which might make you sick, sick to death
as your body shook,
as you puke the vilest of puke.

May we not turn a deaf ear
so we won’t hear
The cries of the innocents out of fear,
in bloodied
death-infested corners.

How we’ve evolved from being human,
To mere creatures far more worse
than the most dangerous animal…

Just because it is not happening to us,
It does not mean that It is not…


We are just too blind not to see,
for we don’t look beyond our boundary.


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