The Road That Stole Their Laughter

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 On blood-stained pavements,

tiny footsteps wither;

childhood soft as morning dew-

is darkened and erased.


Where laughter once bloomed,

a bitter silence grows.

A tender sprout, uprooted,

a dream the pavement knows.


The sun that kissed their cheek

now burns a hollow sight.

A fragile trust lies shattered

in an unending night.


Helpless eyes now harden

to a slow-burning coal.

What grows within their grasp

is not a gun's control-


but a torch of burning memory,

a story left untold.

From gentle, open hands,

a furious fist takes hold.


O society, this wasteland

that you dared to call a home,

you have sown a bitter harvest

in the very stone and loam.


The walls you built to silence

will be broken by the sound

of the cries you chose to ignore,

shaking your hallowed ground.


For they will return, sharper,

forged in grief and pain.

And for every tear you caused,

a storm of thunderous rain.


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