For you refugee child.

For you refugee child.

Who told you my sweet child that you have done something wrong?

The whole world is kneeling and begging for apology my sweet child.

They stole your dreams, the wild beasts of another world and now they are keeping them imprisoned my sweet child.

And you are in another prison, frightened with shaded eyes, helpless to dream,

surrounded by a deafening desperate isolation and madness.

Blurry images brought along with your memories of crushed bodies and rhymed places where the paint dried up, and so is the life.

Motionless and trampled by the onslaught of those who are dubbed protectors.

Your large, wet, trembling eyes are looking at an empty future as they are haunted by a scratched past.

Like a haze the image of the last laugh.

What now... How to get up again my sweet child.

You are drowning, is it too late now to reach a land?

Is there any soul out, there.

For you they are all distant black figures.

You are alone, wounded, the knife comes through the heart, I see it and stop, but the world seems dingy to both of us.

What if you're little, only one last word remains to be written in the book of your life.

Who is it to write it, we or you beautiful child ...

Your scream is saying: "I am also human, me."

And I answer to you my sweet child:

"You are the only human here anymore ..."

Despoina Kantere