Resentment. She cowers, crying in the dark, eyes unopened,
Fishing,floating,suspended from a cord in an aborted tomb.
Her mothers womb. She stutters, breathing into liquids, making little sound,
Or movement. They aren't aware that shes around.
Or is it just that they don't care?
Their busy lives bear little freedom, for another heart to beat between them,
And so misjudging rhyme or reason, they turn to substances unknown,
And all she owns,slowly receeding, back into the dark from whence it came,
Sad really.
Her story will be told, but nobody will know her name.
The thought of her does not occur, to the heroin-infested brain,
The habit strengthening, immunity, while the problem still remains,
Money is scarce, and time isnt moving, the way they percieve to perverse,
The way they abuse their bodies, not realising what their doing to hers,
Developing organs, weak blood pumping in a cycle round the heart,
Ventricles beating in agony, from the veins the real pain starts,
And before she knows it, her carrier is out cold on the floor,
With toxins deep inside her, straight through the cord like an open door,
Umbilical disastor, to think of the injustice it invokes,
That a smackhead can have a baby, while IVF goes up in smoke,
Another toke she takes inhales deeply one more time, a joint, a blow,
A hubbly, and then an injection in her spine, she starts jittering,
But she passes out this time, and inside her womb the foetus jerks,
To the cry of addictions rhyme, her mothers perks are but her death,
And as the music of her heart dies down, shes glad she'll be at peace now,
Till her mother comes around.
Resentment. She cowers, crying in the dark, eyes unopened,
Fishing,floating,suspended from a cord in an aborted tomb.
Her mothers womb. She stutters, breathing into liquids, making little sound,
Or movement. They aren't aware that shes around.
Or is it just that they don't care?
Their busy lives bear little freedom, for another heart to beat between them,
And so misjudging rhyme or reason, they turn to substances unknown,
And all she owns,slowly receeding, back into the dark from whence it came,
Sad really.
Her story will be told, but nobody will know her name.
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Originally Posted by Chronic Cancer
