Looking out into the meadow flowers
swaying in the breeze, its not the
flowers of spring, but the ones left
behind, forgotten about by others.
Oh what tragic thoughts these flowers
were left on this earth to die, never
knowing love, no kindness shown.
You see the flowers I'm talking about
are not flowers at all but children.
Unborn aborted murdered what more
needs to be said, its not the flowers
of spring but the ones left behind.
Author notes
Written August 13th, 2006
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