deepundergroundpoetry.com

Bastards in Caskets

Dead baby in a crib of thorns,
One last spittle of blood on a dirty bib,
He won’t cry anymore. 

Mommy doesn’t feel bad,
Didn’t deserve an accidents’ torture,
She won’t suffer anymore.

And Daddy doesn’t care either way.
Written by SychophanticSlag
Published
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