The Aborted Child

I existed but for a short time;

In that time I heard no rhyme,

I smelled no rose,

In sand wiggled no toes.

If ever a song were sung,

I know not of one.

In a soft bed I’ve never lain;

I’ve never tasted a candy cane.

I experience nothing but death and pain,

But have no voice with which to complain.

 

All I know is I’m unwanted;

Why? By this question I am haunted.

I never meant to hurt my mother,

So why does she see me as a bother?

For her simple convenience I have to die,

And never see the morning sky.

Since I had no defender, I couldn’t fight,

And so lifted my face to see no light.

 

My life was short. My life was terse,

Because my mother proclaimed a curse,

On me for what I could not help.

When death came upon me I gave a yelp!

A silent scream over the pain,

Of what I’ll never find words to explain.

 

My life was full. My life was real.

My heart beat hard and I could feel.

I was just as alive and real as you,

Yet me you kill then boast of the good deeds you do.

I existed fully alive for a while,

But then was killed; supposedly with style.

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