Look! The children are left dying, defying . . . laying in their tiny skeletal shadows.

But no one comes to save them, as they wither, and are mercilessly killed and wounded,

By those whose parents once suffered the same inhumane fate, at the hands of the same evil.

The same ideology, method and madness, that only evil people inherit from their greed.

They are one and the same, those chosen races, by distorted words, by star or angular cross,

With no feelings or care, with no shame or remorse for their cruel deeds.

Why do they not remember, as they look to their parent’s hopes and dreams,

That such misery should never, ever happen again?

Then they would see their parent’s sad and angry eyes,

Showing the hate they would feel for their sons and daughters,

Like the re-enacting of the event of the Golden Calf, turning away from all that is good,

Turning innocent lives into rivers of blood.

They would see people honouring them at the wooded forest’s worded gate,

Whilst grovelling figures scramble for food, suffering a tormented, tortured life,

At the hands of their well-fed offspring.

Now, isn’t that a wretched sight.

Play your sad violin and your sad haunting music!

Tell us the sad tales of your parents!

Your time of reckoning will come, from within.

It will rise and choke you, when you realise what you have done.

(When you realise that people need to act and not just talk or turn away)