Kids In Cages

That little girl's tears are screaming,
and the boy, the one who isn't old
enough to grow hair on his arms,
his innards are enflamed with terror.

The eyes on that toddler, the one
in the baby blue shirt gripping the cage
with one-inch fingers that are now
turning blue, his heart is crying,
day and night, night and day,
for Mama.

Those two sisters, the ones with bare feet
and dark circles under their eyes, they
were just cornered by four teenaged boys,
bent on taking their anger out on someone.

That sad-eyed son of a farmer, the one
in the corner alone, staring into a nightmare
only he can see, he might live to kiss his parents
again, for now they too are caged,
or banished to their homeland,
childless and broken.

That nine-year old girl wearing a loose
pony-tail in dirty hair, holding a screaming baby
in her arms that stinks of week old feces,
her life as a child is over before it started.

A child raising a child.

And I could go on.

But I want to vomit writing this.

So, I won't.