deepundergroundpoetry.com
Murderer
The confession of wrong
That can’t be put right
False comfort of friends
Clichéd and trite
Yet suffer the anguish
In nightmarish dream
A penitent howling
But none hear my scream
To wake in the dawn
Trembling, defiled
Grieving the loss
Of my unborn child
Ripped from the womb
Before she was born
She wasn't ‘convenient’
Cursed now, I mourn
Published 28th Sep 2015
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1st Oct 2015 2:27pm
1st Oct 2015 11:10pm
Yup, I know a young lady who went through this. Basically it's her story. Thanks for dropping by and commenting.
