Not Meant To Be
Thoughts are born,
yet die thereafter,
nothing more satisfying,
than that of solemn touches of death...
a child,
a cursed blessing,
A mother,
A whored Vessel,
no child into bringing,
destroyed and defiled.
Never meant to be,
Left to finish what was started,
Braving the cold,
a womb-less warmth,
lost to life’s virginity,
seconds of breaths,
left it dying,
moments so short,
yet extended toward eternity,
An infant child,
besmirched and left thoughtless,
A child only born to be named death,
Reaping the benifites of final breaths.
poem by Crimson Love
Added by Poetry Lover
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