A small village,
so far away up north,
untouched, untamed.
Filled with little children,
of some ancient descent,
with soft brown skin,
hair, and eyes.
They play, laugh, and tease,
they stop by the store,
hoping to buy some candy.
They sled down the hills,
and throw snowballs.
So innocent and uncorrupted,
hard times lie ahead.
They're just trying to keep up,
with the older kids,
instead of keeping up,
with their education.
They want to be cool,
brave, and strong.
Getting into mischief,
drugs, and vandalism.
Their family doesn't pay attention,
drinking alongside them.
Fights and addiction,
they've lost their way.
They've forgotten their language,
their stories, and who they are.
Reading the paper,
someone finally notices.
So far gone,
with little positive reinforcement.
He could have been smart.
He could have gone far.
But it is too late,
the poor boy has hung himself,
in the doorway.
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