Poetic Reflection on Childhood Innocence

Listen, before the smoke,

before the sirens,

before the night fell down,

she was just a child in a quiet town.

She ran through the street with a ribbon

in her hair, laughing at the sunlight, dancing in the air.

A little paper flower, a doll held tight,

not a thing in her hands, meant to win a fight.

Her world was chalk lines,

shadows and songs, tiny little footsteps where she still belonged.

She knew the names of colors, not the names of fear.

She only carried hope when the world was near.

Then the sky changed shape, and the air grew cold.

The laughter slipped away, too young to be so old.

She only carried a doll, not a rifle in the dark.

Only little hands, only a little heart.

She shoulda had a playground, a dress and a song.

But the world went cruel where she belonged.

The road turned heavy,

the shadows moved fast, every second felt like a day.

be her last.

Voices on the phone trembling, small and true.

Please stay with me now, we're coming for you.

A hundred prayers in a single breath.

A child asks for life, the world answers death.

In every empty moment, every broken call screams louder than thunder when a child should not fall.

She only carried a dog, not a rifle in her jaw.

Only little hands, only tiny feet.

She should have had a playground, a dress, and a song

But the world went cruel where she belonged

Now her name lives on in the quiet pain

In the walls, in the dust, in the falling rain

She was only a child, a light we recall

She only carried a dog, not a rifle at all

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