to Kill the Innocent

Kill the innocent
by alisha j. Teague
© copyright 2003

i yearn to join conversations.
I want to hear my own voice.
If only, if only
i truly had a choice.
I'm a great listener.
But as for talking, there I am weak.
Never had a full conversation.
For I am the child who cannot speak.

Cries at night.
Tears of fear.
Wishing and hoping,
that you're always near.
Shadows move at night.
Monsters bite at my feet.
Shivers run down my spine
for I am the child who cannot sleep.

Mouths are moving.
Voices come out.
Yet, I can't hear a sound.
Don't know what they're talking about.
Fears are never gone.
Wishing someone is near.
I never know if help is coming.
For I am the child who cannot hear.

Never arm-wrestled.
Never will try.
I know if I do,
i surely will cry.
I'm always tired.
Can't even speak.
Don't have a lot of energy.
For I am the child who's always weak.

People live their lives,
often pitying me.
They're so lucky because of the options
they have of what they want to be.
I've never seen the ocean.
Never seen a bee.
Never seen my mother's face.
For I am the child who cannot see.

I often wonder how we can feel sympathy
for the mute, scared, deaf, weak and blind.
But cannot think to use this sympathy
for the creation who doesn't have a mind.
If children are symbolized
as god's heaven sent.
Then why is it acceptable
to kil l the innocent?