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Their faces were never placed on milk cartons.
Not a reward offered for their return.
The children that went missing...
Became the lost.
So, who can search for them, that they may be found?
When their identities have been ransacked by thieves.
Who can call for them, that they may answer?
No longer do they know their names to take heed.
They have been changed and replaced with foreign aliases.
So, who does the children know to tell?
When their native tongues have been ripped, torn, then forged with a lingo of a savage nature.
A language full of barriers.
It's wake up time!
Do you know where the children are?
They're being raised in the house of horrors, by thier captors.
In the land of gallows, as they bear thier crosses.
Whipped... beaten... and chained...
Now... they have taken on the brutal ways of them.
And when they cry out for redemption...
They... their captors mock them and are not afraid.
Because the children...
Commence to pray to the "god" that been given them.
The children are unaware that they are the people.
And they have become like the "Battered wife"
That refuses to abandon her abuser,
While giving him back his name, that boasts of her bondage.
Missing?... Lost?... or just plain Stockholm?
Though freedom is a birthright... it has never been given for free.
And nor will it ever be.
But the children have become severly dependent.
And they fear THE EMANCIPATION...
Jen'uwin Mor c2020
