Mike Youssefian



Posted on January 25, 2015 at 6:35 PM

Your pink, pretty and tiny shape,

That tried to step on this cursed soil,

Did not run, jump in the playground.

Your laughter did not fill the air,

Innocence of your hidden life,

Went to fill a void in the space.

Those who killed you and who went home,

Drank the wine of their relief,

They closed the books of their black souls,

And dried the blood that they have spilled.

The simple toys and your cradle,

Stayed orphan in your small world.

You will not talk and will not sing,

You will not grow one day to hold,

The loving hand of the future,

In the chapel, where now lie still,

The silent shadows of your dreams.


Categories: None