What should I tell you, o dear children, oh my innocent knights in shining armor...
This world and all in itself couldn't do much to save you from an artificial cata strophe.
Each day I pray for you with the belief that the next day will be a soothing balm on your injured palm
But, alas the hope dies as the day breaks, spreading light that blinds the vision, not the other way around!!
Oh, that picture is so so sad. Your poem is very powerful, especially: "Each day I pray for you with the belief that the next day will be a soothing balm on your injured palm"