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by Michael Fitzpatrick
No soldiers, no football, no dinosaurs too,
No trains, cars or airplanes, or fun he was due,
The love and the laughter, the dreams and the joy,
All now but memories of that gorgeous boy
The child on the beach, remembered in song,
Once loved, now a symbol of all that’s gone wrong,
A world undeserving of his short troubled life,
A beautiful kid, dealt a hand filled with strife.
In an era of hope, he’s been cast against type,
He was nobody's problem, or anyone's gripe,
A baby, a toddler, a boy, not yet a teen,
The world should react to this horrific scene,
No soldiers, no football, no dinosaurs too,
He could have belonged to me or to you.
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