Blessid Are The Children Poem by Henry Winslow

Blessid Are The Children



Blessid are the children
Who sleep amoung the war
They live in disregard of
The pain they have in store

They're sleeping in their beds
They're dreaming what they dream
One day they'll realize
That the world's not what it seems

Their dreams will become nightmares
Their innocence will fade
They'll face the consequences of
Mistakes that have been made

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