Your small eyes capture every corrupted moment-
I wish I could clear it and polish
Away every second you cried.
On what thoughts do you meditate?
Little April child, born of sin-covered dew-
Tiny cherub born of
A faceless conjurer, who stoked the cauldron's brew.
I wish I could take it and enchant away
Those medicinal lies you've forever swallowed.
You did nothing to merit this shame.
Your small eyes reflect mine-
Little paper photograph infant.
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