Hush Little Baby

“Hush… Little baby, don't say a word”… This is hummed with the soft tones of a mothers love, as she whispers to her everything…

“I love you so much I will protect you.
I love you so much I will teach you.
I love you so much I will care for you.”

“I love you too but I wish that was all true. Because that care you offer is more temperamental than sentimental. And the lessons being taught are so backwards, even the enigma would need a break afterwards. Then after all that, the protection comes from a red eyed warrior, who's barrier is … me”

These are the kids who are beaten, pushed down, cut open and broke. Laughed at and teased like some kind of joke. The black sheep of society who keep two eyes open while they sleep. The children who no one has the perseverance to keep.

Not rejected. Because for them rejection was too good, they’re the minds in the street that were never understood. The human brain starts with neurones just waiting for connections, but there is sequence of bad decisions that obliterate young people's options. They are taught without an education, built to fight for they're nation. Leaving them swept around every corner, struggling to find order in the chaos.

This lack of affection leaves hearts scared by rejection, reaching out for a warm hug in the night. Now they wish they could go to the moon and back, search for that love they have heard of, but where would they find it, under the needles or the crack. They greave, pain remains, believe, drink until they forget their drunk who cares about health. When you go to bed with sorrow you wake up by yourself.
      
Stop….. The world freezes and a bottle explodes. Its the spark in the street that every one heard. They react, trains derails, swerve, away from their tracks. Blood boils, they're hands clench, desperate to stop but hungry to wrench the pain from their eyes. The sounds fade, people drift, away, into shade. The church bells are ringing but there louder in their head, the sirens are coming but the scream have been shed and everyone's already said, that its over.

They’re hearts are eager their hearts are brave, no airbags, no brakes to save. Blood drips and it drops to the floor, hovering above, another casualty of war. The floor is still spinning, arm waving to resist the cuffs getting tighter with every swing that they miss. They drop to
ground, still death-end by sound.

“You have the right to remain silent… do you understand?” They nod, but the mist is still thick, actions are still fuelled by reactions they can't pick. As they hide in the solace of shame. The police hold the red rag, that is splayed, pointing blame. Thoughts racing around, looking at where they have come and what will surround, them when all this is done. Collapse, in the distance the voices of reason shout “Baby don't say a word, I won't believe what I’ve heard.”

Action reaction then in rolls the mist, but everyone forgets the face behind the fist. A child cries out with every hit, they are still that shape in the playground that just doesn't fit.

A hand through the the mist, says how can I help, but the fog covers up that love reaching out. They throw it back with no care with, no thought and no wear. Cuts sting on the creases but it keeps coming back because that mist means no malice it's just following a track. It grasps and it reaches but to no avail, it splays, “where is the empathy! Cant you hear those hearts wail?”

… but what… is… empathy…To the sole who has felt no love. What is empathy to child who was raised in a world coated in blood. To empathise is to care, relate and be aware. But when you can't love your self, what chance do you stand of showing love to any one else. Rebuilding those ashes of relies on hands that are big enough to rise above, tough enough to heel from the cuts, clasp tight and beg… “Baby, don't make me hate you because loving you is painful enough”

But what the world can forget is that behind those dark eyes and harsh sides is small thing desperate for you to realise. That it is reaching out for affection that has been lost in this tension created by hate. And maybe these children we chastise are more cultured than those ones we idealise, because what is education if not life it's self. And how should we judge happiness, money, love, success or health. When our education system favours a qualification over actual life lessons. What hope do we have building a society big enough to support its self.

Remorse… Here they lie again, not rejected because for them rejection was too good their the minds in the street that are longing to be understood. “Teach me, protect me, care for me. But who is there to hear me, who is left that still doesn't fear me. I've been through many stages to try and find my way back, but there is not enough needles and too many stacks. So now I'll sink down, back under the ground, hide in the depths of shame. Desperate to shake the blame, of the horrid attack, singing hush little baby, now don't you look back.”