Painter

I paint with this pen the perils and pain This world seems to harvest again and again, A downpour of sorrow for the children who die- Mournful tears like rain flowing from their eye. Their torment shouts vivid colors of woe Questions in their minds, 'Why is this life so? ' My ink's red with blood, so distressed by gray, Were they wrong for living? The pen can't say. Paint on with words that protest from the heart, Justice is blind not deaf, this I must impart! Paint on, little pen, write words for the children! Speak for the defenseless, the seeds of all men. Life's canvas was burdened by morbid heaviness I tried diverted strokes but the pen woke my senses- 'Children can only cower in great fear and cry Their voices forever silenced the day they die.' Cynthia Buhain-Baello~~~07.24.14