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Unborn Son
Flickered souls and eyes are gazing
Peering at the unborn son, behold
The things that demote a man
To begging with his knees upon the floor:
The beauty of nature walked to graze
As though the trees reach down to touch
The rays of sun that spreads the horizon
Like open arms to his unborn son;
A fire burning remiss amongst the whole
And shards fall out of the sky like bombs,
To hear the horrified warmth within
Like the unheard cry of his unborn son;
A perfect sunset bled to sleep,
The sandman pours his livestock onto heads
That need the hope and prayers of slumber
Like closing the eyes of his unborn son;
A speed of blasts and colors,
Engines roar still from the haunting motion
To have caused the crash to kill them both
Like the feeling he gets from his unborn son.
poem
by
Christopher's Dead
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