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Literature Text
With every passing year
There are more tears
Times are getting hard
Families on the street
With nothing to eat
Things have gone too far
Bills can't get paid
So they have to find another way
It must be stopped
Children forced to get jobs
And all they can do is sob
It must be stopped
Times are getting hard
Things have gone too far
It must be stopped
It must be stopped
There are more tears
Times are getting hard
Families on the street
With nothing to eat
Things have gone too far
Bills can't get paid
So they have to find another way
It must be stopped
Children forced to get jobs
And all they can do is sob
It must be stopped
Times are getting hard
Things have gone too far
It must be stopped
It must be stopped
Literature
Sparrow's Gift
Sparkling diamond in the sun,
Giving joy to everyone,
Look into its wondrous light,
Rapture wrapped, burning bright.
Gather near, hear my tale,
From distant lands, pray ye sail,
You gave a gift of love to me,
I have the lock, you hold the key.
Into your eyes, I can but gaze,
My face remains, we stand amazed,
For though we share a silent stare,
It is for thee I do but care.
And as the bond between us grows,
Your loving hand on me bestows,
Soft, your creatures come to hear,
Each little one you hold so dear.
Calm and gentle, pure and kind,
Learning from your perfect mind,
Your gift comes down from above,
Giving us your endless
Literature
The Gift
What do you give
To those whose gift
Is giving
How do you find
Something that wraps up
These feelings of appreciation
The words
Like the ocean
Just keep on giving
Literature
poem 8
remember the worlds we used to build in minutes. walking through other's footsteps for years in hours.
remember the fun we used to have, being omnipotent beings of word. doing things that aren't possible without the mind.
remember the dead we used to fight against, our own mortality at our fingertips. being more alive then the real world.
forget my empty tongue, with its sharp truth. unto the stars is where I went.
forget the worlds we made, and the beings we slayed. unto the inception of mad killers is our path.
forget our empty promises of good faith, its only hurt us in the end. unto the past to find myself.
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Comments4
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how old are the children exactly?