The Voice of the Unborn
It was calm within mom sans any qualm,
Her palm that touched and retouched,
As I clutched, through the rope, with the hope
To cope up with life, without any strife.
Days passed, so did the phase and my gaze awaited
The bright rays, which came, much before the end game,
For my name was girl, who loved to curl like a
Pearl within the womb: Alas! That was my tomb.
A metal made me unsettle, plucked this petal,
Before my mettle was proved, and I was removed,
Moved to trash, just in a flash and turned into
Ash, a brutal assault for no fault of mine.
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