In the womb,
she grows,
just like a germinating plant;
Her tiny fingers clutch,
Her eyes are transparent pools,
and she looks,
as if to ask,
“Will I make it?,
or will I be wrenched away
and cast into hell.”
“I can’t guard

She is you,
Do you see that?
All you do,
is give her a chance…
She is a person,
and she is already braving,
that, which no one should, right at the start.
Do you care?

Cucumber cold, she will lay,
in her earthen bed,
like a ragged doll;
No pulse, no breath,
No life at all;
Paying for whose fault?

© soulreserve 2015

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