It is their soft large eyes that hold us
captivating with that expression of inquiry
and curiosity of the world they are born to.
Their beautifully expressive eyes inviting
the beholder to see the world through
theirs, a world where children are adored
and nurtured, humanity's future generated
timelessly, existing from age to age the
most priceless gift that existence offers.
Look into these eyes, the eyes of these
children born to war, expressionless and
blank for they have no curiosity and know
only privation, their limbs hang lifeless
from lank torsos, their heads a slant as
though scrawny necks cannot support
the burden of a subnourished brain. The
product of conflict, of conflict's call to
arms where arable land lies grimly fallow
whose only crops now are land mines
awaiting the unwary footstep leaving all
in ruin, and famine rules that children be
deprived of all that young minds clamour
to be exposed to, not the harsh reality of
death delivered by combatants, death
stalking the unwary the starving child.
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