This poem came out as I strummed a couple of chords on my guitar. I hope one day I can make a difference and give the little voices some power.
The Little Voice
there’s a little child
walking home
from the water well
he is tired
his feet are bleeding
no shoes to heal the sores
maybe someone can save him
does he..does he know any more?
the world that he was born into, was it..was it his fault?
is he crying? is he crying at night?
is God..is God going to listen to him?
little child, little child, little child, little child
it ain’t fair..it ain’t fair what is done
it ain’t fair..it ain’t fair what is done
power, power to the little voice
power, power to the little voice
By Maria Mitsos
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