There were birds: bloody-red, <br />that fell like bullets from the sky. <br />There were trees, smashed and broken, <br />like headless dolls cut down to size. <br />And the cold-hearted children, <br />with hard, ancient eyes, <br />see the world as a cauldron: <br />a cut-throat dance of lies... <br /> <br />There were strange, mutant creatures, <br />dressed like soldiers in defile. <br />There were beings, armed and dangerous, <br />who made murder infantile. <br />And a young boy who was golden*, <br />who had no pity in his eyes, <br />saw the world as a cauldron: <br />a cut-throat dance of lies... <br /> <br />In the small town of Jonesboro. <br />In the schools of Columbine. <br />Where stalks the secret horrors? <br />Look around. Explain. Opine. <br />Who divines when our children, <br />follow our careless lead, <br />to model themselves as killers? <br />Who are the monsters? <br />Who sows the seed? <br /> <br />There were old, primal hatreds, <br />acted out in grim disguise. <br />There was a brittle, shrill laughter, <br />heard above the fearful cries. <br />There were kids, crushed and shaken: <br />standing wheat cut down with scythes. <br />And there were cold-blooded children, <br />with murder in their eyes. <br /> <br />And the cold-hearted children <br />had no pity in their eyes.<br /><br />David SmithWhite<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/song-the-cold-hearted-children/
