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 A life is but a life,

A child is but a child. 

But this one child may make all the difference, 

To a world of misery and sorrow. 


I wonder what he dreams of, 

A child that knows so much. 

Of playground rides and toys of wonder, 

But of sadness he knows none. 


Maybe he wishes to be a dancer, 

To fly high on but thin air. 

Or an astronaut, to float in space, 

Is what he really wants? 


A singer would be a job so grand, 

To stand in front of crowds, 

And sing so loud the heavens trembled, 

And applauded as he bowed. 


But a life is still but a life, 

And a dream can be cut short. 

A speeding blur of colour, a cold hearted killer. 

And in an instant the dream is lost. 

As life goes on for some.