What are you shielding, exactly?
Is it justice, or the weight of a lie?
Behind that badge, behind that wall,
Do you hear the heartbeats you've silenced—
Or do you even try?
Children once laughed, their hearts so light,
But now they sit quiet, out of your sight.
Their stars don't sparkle; their dreams feel far,
They've learned too young what fear can scar.
You wear the shield, but what does it hide?
The truth of a world where trust has died.
They don't feel safe; they don't feel whole—
Their little hearts ache, robbed of their soul.
What are you shielding, exactly?
Because it's not their innocence or joy.
It's the sound of their heartbeats fading away—
The ones who no longer believe they're more than a ploy.
Do you see them? Do you hear their cries?
Or do you turn away from their questioning eyes?
The shield you wear should protect and defend,
But to them, it's a barrier they cannot mend.
So ask yourself: what is this for?
If the children feel hollow at their core?
A shield should mean safety, not fear or despair—
But right now, it's hiding hearts that no longer care.
What are you shielding, exactly?
Because it's not the future we hoped to build.
It's the sound of heartbeats growing quieter still—
And that silence is louder than anything you've willed.
This poem reflects the sadness and disconnection felt by children who have lost trust in those meant to protect them.