The child that never was Pounding from the inside, Trapped in a harness forgotten dreams Or never realized, Pounding and pounding Ears ringing with doubt Eyes blinking with guilt And the sting of tears. Small hands grasping at nothing, Follicles of life untouching, Terror Rage Delirium Confrontation. Sing the song Sing the song of this wrong. Lips not quenching the words fall down and break The broken silence makes me hear But the blood has spilled and is much too late For broken silence And realization Far to late for life. The cord nurturing life Wrapped around the throat, Tightly Weaving it's way out of existence, Gone Slipping through the realm of infinity Falling to fiction for something that has never been. No stone of words marking his feet No flowers loiter above his head No sun, no moon, no escaping darkness. Solidarity clamors to give way to life But is burnt out before it is ever seen. Words go unspoken about the child that never was Songs are sung and unsung And the child that never was Is always remembered.