The march is endless
for the little toy soldiers
all dressed up in their Sunday finest
they calmly tell the preacher
they took a tumble down the stairs
while they boast bruises of handprints
their eyes glaze over
accustomed to their pain
when they go to heaven
He will take them in His arms
and show them the love they've never known
children are like china dolls
and they break just as easily
like little toy soldiers
they fall in a line
life is hell for these silent soldiers
they can go nowhere but up
though they lose hope on earth
they silently pray for sanctuary after death
tiny soldiers on an endless march
through hell and domestic abuse
please let them all through those glittering gates
so they may know for once
rather than the sting of a hand
YOU ARE READING
The Places You Go In Your Mind
PoesiaA collection of poetry that reflects the poet's state of mind over the course of many years. The poems are largely unrelated and cover many topics.
