The Jamaican Child

Watch them all caught up in them politics!

Turn on the news another Jamaican child life has ended too quick

Busy making plans for the future they say

While everyday the future is being taking away

How can you not cry out when you hear of the death of a child?

They drop by and offer words of assurance just for a little while

Our little girls are being taken advantage of yet elders continue lust

Every day we brace ourselves to hear about more pain reaching our children

Yet we remember for a while and we move on with our lives because it's not our child

It's so captivating to hear a child laugh yet these men find joy in taking innocence from a child

So young, filled with great potential yet at just 12,13,14,15 they are killed before their time

More and more parents are burying their children our country is really in reverse

No matter how many developments take place in our country we continue to disregard our true worth

The most influential minds pretend as if they don't hear the cries

Yet they are vocal on the most trivial of matters

Our children continue to cry out to be protected but we are silent and tune out the cries

Let us think for awhile what would you do if your child was molested and found in a dirt pile?

May our hearts be more understanding so we can do something about the problem

2015 rolls on and we honestly have to wonder how many more times we will have to say goodbye

Goodbye to our loved ones who the gun and knives took away

Our youngest are leaving us yet Jamaica needs the youngest to build it up

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The Young are being murdered

The death of the young By:©Saccheen Laing I put on my uniform Armed with books I set out in search of a good education. Streets lined with the blood stains of those who fell on the way I'm determined to live to see another day But I have no control over those who believe they can have their own way. Armed with guns and knives They attack me, They assault me, They abuse me , Because they believe they have control over me Because of guns and knives in hand. In my hands I write my plans A singer, an actor, a doctor, a fashion designer or a police man I clench my fist as my blood runs to join those who fell before My plans remain in my hands Never to be realized I am young but that means nothing on this land. The blood of the young will replace the ocean that surrounds and beautifies the land How many more shall die before you answer when I ask why? My mother shall cry and bury her son before he becomes a man My brot...

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The Jamaica of tomorrow

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