*Clears throat*
This is a tribute to the children of Darfur.
*Opens her notebook, skipping to the fifth page*
I like to call this one. . . Birth.
A child was born today
In a land not so far away
It's not a strange occurance, I say
It surely happens every day.
This baby came forth today
To a mother about your age
Who has no home and is within a cae
Of humiliation, despair and repressed rage.
The baby was conceived of sin
Of drugs and lust and desire within
A war-torn country with a lost generation therein
Amid constant strife and battle's ringing din.
This child will probably not live to see the age of two-
with the constant danger of wounds, disease and starvation too
As children in this land not so far away oftentimes do
If only this corrupt country knew how many innocent children it slew.
"This is such a sad story," you say
Well, my friend, it happens every day
We can only hope that one fine day
Peace will engulf the world like the sun's shining rays.
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Can I play with madness?
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