Don't Cry Over that Bruised Knee

 Baby, my child,

Do not cry over that bruised knee,

For these scrapes will heal.

May you never have to see the day

When your stabber wants you

To think about how they feel.

May you never have to see the day

When right is not right,

And, wrong is all might.

Where liars are considered righteous,

Becuase they can shout all night.

May you never have to call your own

Those that will have your devotion,

But give you no thanks,

And go showering care to others,

With all the world’s banks.

May you never have to live with cowards,

Who act in fear, and call it right;

And walk out on you, 

Just to keep you tight.

May you live to see a world

Where goodness amounts to something,

And, fear does not loyalties decide;

Where tolerance is not confused for love;

Where promises insincere go not un-reprimanded;

Where right is right, however inconvenient;

Where merit is not episodic, but cumulative;

Where liars, and dodgers, and twisters cannot shout you down,

As your “own” stand and contemplate on “safe” paths;

Where honour is not just a word, but am ambition;

Where shame exists, and the shameless shudder

For the brave care to stand up for what is right,

And, not bend the rules every other day and night.

Where sorries are believable,

And, you can rest in peace.

Baby, my child,

Do not cry over that bruised knee,

For these scrapes will heal.