machine children

I watched the children travel to school
through a cold window
dead they seemed yet with voices
muffled like old souls

what hope for their imaginations
in this country all confused
by thoughtless people left without gods
to shine the light

the days are grey with nights which whisper
fears in the family
perceived naturally by these fragile young minds
yet not included in their schooling days

rather cast out like drained batteries
strewn broad across neglected farmland
to roll and hide amongst the bones
of nameless poets who once held open imagining's gates

what will become of them
without nurturing freedoms young souls
nothing perhaps will flourish
no ears open to here the ancestor's voices sing