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Rated: ASR · Poetry · Family · #485305
You do to others what has been done to you.
Tomorrow's children fold their arms
Across their chests, knowing damn well
That they have a lot to fight for.
What have your grandparents done
To your parents, and what have
Your parents done to you?
And, in turn, what will you do
To those becoming tomorrow's children?

The circles come to an end
Somewhere that we cannot see,
Someplace that we cannot reach,
With our arms folded across our chests.
There stands tomorrow's children,
At that age now where they hate you,
But in tomorrow's tomorrow,
They will love you again.

So it's not cool and it's not hip,
So it's not where you thought you'd be.
So it's not what you thought you'd do,
Or how you thought that you'd react.
You've changed, my friend, for better
Or for worse, you turned 360,
And became someone else.

So tomorrow's children may not like you,
It doesn't change, it's what you knew.
So what if you look at your life and think,
This is not what I want, or what I planned.
So what if it all makes you want
The things you weren't meant to have,
And so what if it makes you want
To take it away from them?

Tomorrow's children are yours,
Whether they love you,
Or you love them, it doesn't matter,
They are yours and they will never,
Never go away. Stuck with them,
You are, with your arms folded
Across your chest, wondering
What happened to you,
You, yesterday's children.

Copyright 2002
© Copyright 2002 Ma Deuce (spinalremain at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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