Posted in Poems

The children suffer


A little boy in shock.
Covered in blood and dust.
The young become victims.
In war monsters exist.

A toddler left to die.
In a box by the roadside.
A victim of child abuse?
In peace monsters exist.

A decomposed body of a boy.
From missing to a kidnapping.
A child has died.
And the monster lives on.

I read their stories.
I saw their faces.
Three little boys.
Is prayer enough?

By C.E. Pereira



I'm a Eurasian of Portuguese, English, Scottish and Malay heritage. And my extended family are of Chinese and Indian heritage. In recent years, the younger generation have added on to include spouses from the Philippines, Nigeria and Russia. My world is made up of different colours like the rainbow. And like the rainbow I am unique. Reading is my form of relaxation, to escape from the drudgery of daily life and enter into a world of the imagination. It is the love of reading that has led me to try my hand in writing short stories and poems. I hope that in some way my stories and poems will take you for a little while away from the drudgery of the present into the pages of imagination. To new friends found, I bid you, Welcome. Sincerely, C.E. Pereira

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