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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #1682304
An ode from god to the millions of orphans.
Morning sun rises from the east,
making the sky an ocean of colour,
of all the people living down below,
there sleeps my lonely child.

sleeping on the pavement off the road,
a mass of tattered clothes and battered hopes,
waking up from the feel of the sun,
wake up my child your day has begun.

picking up the rags from the pavement,
and remembering the harships that lie ahead in the day,
a pearl of a tear runs down his cheeks,
it makes my heart writhle and weep.

my lonely child is one in the million,
of all other lonely children,
who must suffer to the bones,
as they are my sons in exile.

the world passes by you everyday,
and no hand caresses you with love,
you search the eyes of the people all around,
you search the heavens up above.

you must suffer my child,
for heaven is for the purest of hearts,
your tears bathes you to the soul,
and my arms wait wide open.
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