Little hands that cannot make a sound
Sent to their doom
A faint heartbeat that cannot be found
Little hands ripped from the womb
Little hands so sweet
A part of you is dead
Little feet
That will never walk ahead
A smile that will never be
A life taken so fast
Eyes that will never see
This will not be the last
It will happen again
Little hands stained blood red
Blood red and crimson
Nothing more can be said
Little hands that cannot make a sound
Sent to their doom
A faint heartbeat that cannot be found
Little hands ripped from the womb
YOU ARE READING
My Old Poems (2011)
PoetryJust a compilation of the poems that I wrote in 2011 on my Ipod. I wrote these poems at the time to try and lift my spirit, I knew I needed it then. Enjoy. Become a fan on Facebook if you like it. http://www.facebook.com/Johnhicksbooks :)
