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Rated: E · Poetry · Family · #2097221
Inspired by my grandfathers generation; he was a POW in WWII

Through Their Eyes

We were the kids society threw away,
Our parents worked hard to keep poverty at bay.

We played in dirt and with broken toys,

But somehow we managed to be happy girls and boys.

We were subjected to corporal punishment in schools,

But for most of us we learned not to be fools.


Our cities were crowded and overrun with crime,

And a lot of us didn't make it to our prime.

We were born to large families and lived in slums,

But somehow most of us became way more than just bums.

Some of us were children of immigrants, others just of the poor,

But we all faced the same closed door.


Before there was welfare to make a career of,

There were many hurtles we had to work hard to rise above.

There was no system on which we could depend;

It was for ourselves we were left to fend.

In family, religion, and country we were raised to believe,

Of our rights and freedoms we were not naive.


For the most part our futures seemed bleak,

But we worked hard to turn them bright, we were not weak.

We were forced to grow up hard and fast,

And the honor and pride of our days is a thing of the past.

To the history books we're the nameless many, the little guy,

But it was our beliefs, lives, and sacrifices this country was molded by.


We helped to build the nation you no longer hold dear,

We sacrificed so much for current generations to forget; this is what I fear.

It seems as if our hard ships and trials were for nothing if no one learned,

It's terrible, the direction in which this country has turned.


Then maybe our four father's thoughts; if we could hear them beyond the grave,

As they look across this divided country they can no longer strive to save.

It seems as if we've forgotten the things they fought for and their numerous cries,

If we could only see things through their eyes.

© Copyright 2016 A. M. Meeks (ameeks925 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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