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.