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Who'll Cry for Misha
She lies alone
Her bed's on the floor
She's got the clothes on her back
But nothing more
Her body's weak
But her spirit is strong
Yet the doctors know
She doesn't have too long
Who'll cry for Misha
When they take her away
She'll die so lonely
In such a needless way
Who'll cry for Misha
Who'll cry for Misha
The days are hot
Her nights are long
She's had but five short years
But now
She's gone
Who cried for Misha
When they took her away
She died so lonely
In such a needles way
Who cried for Misha
Who cries for Misha
A box it sets
Upon a desk
The medicine inside
Carefully rests
But for a dollar's sake
It had to wait
And for this poor child
It came too late
Who cried for Misha
When they took her away
She died so lonely
In such a needless way
Who cried for Misha
Who cries for Misha
A mother's wait
Has come to an end
Into her arms
A child comes in
Each day she prays
That the drought will pass
And that this child will live
Longer than her last
Her name was Misha
She cried for Misha
When they took her away
She died so lonely
In such a needless way
She cried for Misha
She cries for Misha
Ed Roberts 3/10/01
(From A Poet's Last Stand, my first book.)
I wrote this poem after watching a special about the AIDS epidemic in Africa.There was a pregnant woman that was holding her 5-year-old daughter, who was dying of this illness.
Pain like this doesn't matter what language it is felt in.
We have to find a way to help.
Her bed's on the floor
She's got the clothes on her back
But nothing more
Her body's weak
But her spirit is strong
Yet the doctors know
She doesn't have too long
Who'll cry for Misha
When they take her away
She'll die so lonely
In such a needless way
Who'll cry for Misha
Who'll cry for Misha
The days are hot
Her nights are long
She's had but five short years
But now
She's gone
Who cried for Misha
When they took her away
She died so lonely
In such a needles way
Who cried for Misha
Who cries for Misha
A box it sets
Upon a desk
The medicine inside
Carefully rests
But for a dollar's sake
It had to wait
And for this poor child
It came too late
Who cried for Misha
When they took her away
She died so lonely
In such a needless way
Who cried for Misha
Who cries for Misha
A mother's wait
Has come to an end
Into her arms
A child comes in
Each day she prays
That the drought will pass
And that this child will live
Longer than her last
Her name was Misha
She cried for Misha
When they took her away
She died so lonely
In such a needless way
She cried for Misha
She cries for Misha
Ed Roberts 3/10/01
(From A Poet's Last Stand, my first book.)
I wrote this poem after watching a special about the AIDS epidemic in Africa.There was a pregnant woman that was holding her 5-year-old daughter, who was dying of this illness.
Pain like this doesn't matter what language it is felt in.
We have to find a way to help.
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Who`ll Cry for Misha
Who`ll Cry for Misha