wasted Children

Some children are unwanted.
They just get born that way.
It was not what they asked for:
They did not have a say.
They end up lost and lonely,
Longing to be loved.
Only wanting to be held,
They end up being shoved
Out into the darkness,
Out into the cold.
They want someone to see them;
They just want a hand to hold.

Her tiny hands are folded;
Her little head is bowed;
She’s talking to Jesus;
She’s asking Jesus how
God sits in his heaven
Sees the children here below,
And lets them go on crying,
And lets them suffer so.
Why are the children wasted—
Like garbage thrown away?
Doesn’t God even listen
When wasted children pray?