Broken Toys all in a Row

I have a profoundly retarded niece that is in a state home for autistic children, and the first time I went into this "warehouse of lost little soul" it broke my heart into a million tiny little pieces. It took every bit of strength that I had to hold back the tears, and more than a few escaped against my best efforts to restrain them. Near adult sized children, with thickly padded foam helmets, who's only pleasure seemed to come from bouncing their heads off of the drool covered desks that they were restrained into, and that's only the beginning of a list that goes on and on.

My prayers go out on their behalf,
have you forgotten them, father?

Look at them, these innocent,
these little lost soul,
these broken toys,
all in a row.

They have not a chance,
for the simplest of pleasure,
a smile on there face
goes unknown.

Why is it, you say,
that they were born this way.
Why is it this price
they must pay.

My prayers, I do send,
cause they have not a friend,
to them, this concepts unknown.
and even if they did,

The meaning of life,
to them has no meaning,
so why did you send them here?

To teach us a lesson about this world.

I think not,
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Father, I wondered,
if you could do something,
would you not?