THE CRY OF THE INNOCENT

Chizor Welle

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Chizor Welle

Thursday 26 February 2026

THE CRY OF THE INNOCENT

‎In the silence of the night,

‎When the world pretends to sleep,

‎A fragile voice breaks the dark—

‎A cry, soft… yet deep.

‎Not a cry of anger,

‎Not a shout for war,

‎But a trembling whisper asking,

‎“What am I suffering for?”

‎Tiny hands raised to heaven,

‎Eyes too young to know despair,

‎Born into a storm of chaos,

‎Breathing pain instead of air.

‎The streets echo with footsteps,

‎But none will stop to hear

‎The child whose tears fall quietly,

‎Invisible in fear.

‎Promises broken like glass,

‎Dreams scattered on the floor,

‎Hope fading like a candle

‎Behind a locked door.

‎The innocent do not ask for riches,

‎Nor crowns of shining gold,

‎They ask for love and shelter,

‎For warmth against the cold.

‎Yet the world keeps turning faster,

‎Too busy, too blind to see

‎That every unheard cry

‎Is a wound on humanity.

‎Who will rise to listen?

‎Who will dare to care?

‎Who will stand for justice

‎And answer that silent prayer?

‎For every cry ignored today

‎Becomes tomorrow’s pain,

‎And the tears of the innocent

‎Will not fall in vain.

‎One day the echoes will thunder,

‎Louder than any voice,

‎And the world that chose indifference

‎Will regret that choice.

‎Until then the heavens witness

‎Every tear that falls—

‎The cry of the innocent

‎Still breaks through silent walls.

‎

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THE CRY OF THE INNOCENT

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