Yesterday, Children reached out For the shimmering colours Of their future Little knowing That their own elders Would burst that bubble In the red glare of a bloodbath. Nothing will remain now But the memory of their innocence. Trusting lambs, Slaughtered where they came to learn, to grow. Agony, incredible pain, In the hearts of their families. What inhuman beings are these Whose hearts hold so much anger And hatred, that they can kill children In cold blood?

Every child, to me, is like my little grandchildrn, chasing dreams, with happiness and hope..