Why do we steal their childhood—
That fleeting, fragile moment they deserve to live?
A time untouched by worry, free of care,
Where innocence dances in a gentle world,
Soft and simple, pure and bright.
Because above their heads, no protective hand rests,
Though words may claim someone’s by their side,
We have snatched their childhood away—
Stolen from them their toys, their laughter, their play.
The childhood meant for learning, for dreams to grow,
Instead, we bind them to labor’s weary yoke.
Where pencils should have shaped their minds,
Now tools are clenched in tiny fists,
And the harsh flame we fear—
We thrust upon their tender skin.
In playgrounds, in fields, among the barns,
Where dolls once ruled and trains still called,
Their hearts long for those simple joys—
But hunger’s cruel demand pulls them to toil.
Are we not the guilty ones, then?
The thieves of their lost youth,
Perpetrators of this silent crime?
This cruelty must end.
We must restore their stolen childhood,
Return to them the laughter, the play,
And let every child simply be a child again.
No comments:
Post a Comment