- Children Of Yesteryear - Poem by D.J. Whisenant

Here in the killing season,
youth are a crying shame.
It's gunplay without reason,
here in the dying game.
And as their clothes turn stainless,
at least they're finally painless.
For all this heinous treason…
which faction do you blame?

I'd love to save…
all my tears…
for every child of…
yesteryear.
Still, there's a knot…
in my voice…
when 'soldiers' fire on…
the wrong choice.

Here in the slaughter days,
laughter is seldom strong.
If rebels changed their ways,
smiles would be prolonged.
When innocence is shot down,
a mother's screams pierce too loud.
Even for a pair of J's…
such a pitiful song.

I'd love to save…
all my tears…
for every child of…
yesteryear.
Still, my heart weeps…
for colored boys…
looking to play with…
all the wrong toys.