A skirt is torn, self belts become restraints.
A painful reminder, grows inside her.
An artist's heart, her arms a razor a paints.
Child from him is what she must concur.

An infant's cries silenced; mother to blame.
Her father to the boy shoots up with lead.
A hand covers her mouth, she hides in shame.
One was so innocent, but both are dead.

The angels cry, their tears-they shatter glass.
A match is struck, two hearts weld into one.
The priests; they pray s smoke wafts into mass.
A silenced family; four souls are gone.

And all of them-the world; it shall not miss
Because it's true that ignorance is bliss.