I got this idea from the little girl in Endless Waltz, who asks her grandfather why there's still fighting. It's supposed to be a dialogue between a little girl and her Grandpa...
My Child, or, Questions
Where has the hope gone?
Away with the wind?
And where had the light fled?
Out with the tide?
And where lies the laughter
That once filled the air?
What happened to hearts
That they're filled with fear?
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The hope was drowned
By waves of red blood.
The light was doused
By sad mourner's tears.
The laughter was swallowed
By screams of pain.
And hearts were taught fear
By those who killed peace.
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Why, Grandpa, why?
Why must we fight?
Why drown we the hope?
Why douse we the light?
Why choke we the laughter?
Why teach others to fear?
Why act to destroy?
Why kill what is dear?
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I cannot say.
Perhaps for power.
Perhaps for greed.
Perhaps for evil.
Perhaps for need.
I have not asked,
I cannot say.
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Will it always be so?
Must we always fight?
Will we always lose hope?
Laughter? Light?
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Pray not, my child.
Pray for the hope, pray for the light.
Pray for the laughter, ad an end to this fight.
Pray that your children will grow
Without this sorrow that we've come to know.
