Crying I

When a crack baby dies, I cry.
Brought into this world with a burden.
Which there was no control.
Now in heaven.
You have your own role.

When an innocent child dies, I cry.
Taken from this world with no warning.
Snatched from the mouth of life.
Now to serve their time resting
In heaven playing a fife.

When an addicted youth dies, I cry.
Making them go farther
To see and feel beyond.
There was no father
To have that special bond.

When a homeless person dies, I cry.
Living amongst nature in whatever they can find.
Hoping someone would lend them a hand.
No one is to be so kind.
It didn’t turn out as planned.

When a soldier dies, I cry.
Fighting for their country
In a foreign land.
Finally free
Like the wind-blown sand.

When an old man dies, I cry.
Life full of memories
And now he is done.
Leaving lots of stories
For his grandson.

When a friend dies, I cry.
I wonder if I really knew ’em
And if he really knew me?
Was I a good friend to ’em?
A tragic event he couldn’t foresee.

When someone takes their life, I cry.
Will all this ever stop?
What gives us the urge to control life?
Life is too precious to flop.
Give them the strength to drop the knife.

Copyright © 1990 – 2014 Franklin W. Reece – All rights reserved

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