The Cry of Unborn

The flight of broken wings.
The desire of small things.
The pain of shattered dreams.
The plight of unheard screams.
The sobs of wailing womb.
That turned unannounced tomb.

The cry of unborn soul.
Joy that destiny stole.
The call of unshed tears.
The prick of thousand spears.
The moans of empty crib.
The wait of folded bib.

The flames of fire within.
Gushing and fuming din.
A question still pricking.
To keep my mind ticking.
Why did I meet this fate?
How will you bear this weight?

My life cut short by own.
A sin they would atone.
The burden of this crime.
Waiting to rise with time.
Did your hands not tremble?
Ah!The guts that semble.

How come you get this right?
To use your senseless might.
Karma will take its course.
Not curbed by any force.
A grave dug in silence.
An act of defiance. 

So what if I was a girl? 
Bound to be a lucid pearl.
My lifeless body stiff.
Ending tussle and tiff.
My faint screams in the throat.
Will keep your guilt afloat.
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Rashim Brutta

Rashim Brutta is a dentist by profession and a writer by choice. She likes to keep things simple and strike a chord at the same time.
Rashim Brutta

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