Dead children of Darfur
Where will their spirits go
What happens to the flies
That pick the corners of their eyes
Will these helpless little waifs
Who know of famine and of war
One day not hear mother's cry
As they watch their children die
I see them on the news
Haunted empty, big brown eyes
Bones poke through paper skin
As in death their peace begins
And will all these hapless souls -
These wretched lives so full of strife
Demand why humanity underplays
Such a precious thing as life
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