MY Little Child

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Creative,
Joyous,
Carefree.

A life of a child
Is nothing but a mix of the three.

For when a child grows
And speak from their souls,
Connection is lost,
Becoming unknown.
Leaving the child to bear alone.

We mimic tradition,
Refuse to listen,
To the little ones who
See us as reason.

And as your little child cries,
You spew great lies;

'You have no place here in this family!'

You have abandoned them,
And Ridiculed them
To the highest of degree.

But all for reason,
That they are not the vision
you wish for them to be.

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