As silent storms fly overhead, in the sands will lay our dead. Another soul for His safekeeping, Thousands kneel softly weeping. A mother cries from up above What child is this that wrought such rage? Innocence lost, now animal uncaged. As I look down from my lofty tomb, Saddened by the product of my womb. A mother cries from down below How could you take this child of mine? To perch upon your lofty shrine. As I look up towards heavens gates My angered soul I supplicate Gluttonous ego's now been fed Take me now my heart is dead! I do not make less of the fact that father's grieve. No matter the circumstance. But when atrocities have been committed against humanity, we mother's carried this child within us.It touches a much different chord, one we cannot detach ourselves from.I find too often these mother's are forgotten. Society tends to see them as the creator of a monster rather than one that grieves and is equally if not more horrified. The pain these mother's suffer is beyond imagination. I wrote this for the mother's of the children we have lost, and for the mother's of the children that created the atrocities. My heart goes out to them. I pray for them both, I pray they will find peace. ~Love, Peace and Light~