As I sat on the bench outside for a break;
My eyes somehow took a double-take.
Of a man with five children moving in all directions;
Five beautiful children needing love and affection.
He worked in the Foster Care Dept. of the state;
He said, “This generations is lost. It’s just too late.”
A generation of babies lost and tossed to roam;
Perhaps never having a permanent home of their own.
Because the real parents for some reason would not commit,
They’d rather beat up, abuse, dessert or just quit…
On these precious little ones most beloved by our Father above;
While on this earth gave them all His love.
And warned everyone of the consequences He would bring to this place;
If anyone brought a tear to their face.
The most innocent and helpless on this earth;
They had no control over their lives or their births.
So conveniently disposed of like a box of tissue;
When they should be the main topic; a serious issue.
Lives that were left completely in our care;
Why is it then they are exactly no where?