The children of children, by the time they’re half-grown, have habits, like rabbits, and young of their own.
The children of children, from their mommas’ laps, hop down to the ground, to be taken in traps.
The children of children trapped by dark skins, to stay in and play in, a game no one wins.
The children of children, while still young and sweet are all damned and programmed, for future defeat.
The children of children are trapped by adults, who failed them, then jailed them, to hide the results.
The children of children, unable to cope, with systems that twist them, and rob them of hope.
The children of children, the sin and the shame, keep pairing and bearing, and who do you blame?
The children of children cry out everyday, they beg you for rescue, and what do you say?
Children of Children: The Canadian Elections and Gun Violence
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