Where The Children Play

The sky is grey,

To my dismay,

I’ve found where the children play.

Buried underneath the sand,

Closed in by a gate,

Innocence won’t take a stand polluted by this hate.

Songs that have no singers,

Swings that have no swingers,

Empty playgrounds in the night but how the smell does linger.

I’d take it all back if I could,

A lesson learned in blood,

I’d take the pain and rearrange the damage that was done.

Here regrets are measured by the setting sun,

And what I thought was treasured,

Was traded for some fun.

The sky is grey,

To my dismay,

I’ve found where the children play.

Published by eternalfindings

I am a Jill of all trades. As long as those trades are solely in the realm of the arts. I can not do math without using my fingers or a calculator. Do they still make calculators? Did I just age myself? I have a dog! Dog good! What do you all really want to know? Truthfully my brain is a clusterfuck of whirling ideas, compounded with PTSD, anxiety, and very severe depression. This leads me to be extremely creative when it comes to my self deprecation. So... who wants to be my friend?!

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