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Slow death
Like a baby left if crib crying
fir the smell of its mother
the food of its mother
the life of the mother
she is gone the crys will soon stop as the heart will beat last beats.. broken, left, cold, still, lifeless.
she left and took every chance of life with her.
No breast to feed, no warmth to live, death coming.
You took my breathe,
my air out if my lungs,
my blood stopped pumpin
my brain stopped thinking..
I cried like that baby every night, when I knew my dreams were dead,
when I knew hopes you fed me like food were gone,
it was all black now, deep dark down inside your gone now
no turning back
eyes won't open
better to stay closed
thoughts won't stop
try to work
try to ignore it
but it all was a dream
nothing was real
is just a lie
a passage way
look inside the eyes
they are black inside
inside the mouth u fed its black its cold its dead inside
You did this do you see
This reminds me of a
This reminds me of a miscarriage I saw once, where the babies died -- 18 weeks gestation, but fully formed. It was quite a sight. The hospital put doll clothes on them and let the mother take pictures with them and her. It was very morbid to most who saw it. The hospital nurses opened their eyes, so that the eyes were all black as well. They sort of resembled little aliens. I don't think they do that practice too much anymore, although I am sure some hospitals do. It was thought to help the mother face the deaths at that time.
...and he asked her, "do you write poetry? Because I feel as if I am the ink that flows from your quill."
"No", she replied, "but I have experienced it. "