deepundergroundpoetry.com
System Baby
Whore baby, though the womb
of a strung out street whore.
Bought into this world two months early,
Tiny, sickly and weak.
Machine baby, though the tube
You breathe, gasping for each small breath.
Locked in your smooth clear tomb,
veins of the machine to sustain life.
Burden baby, just a bill to the hospital,
left by alley cat whore.
she slinks back into night
her home the streets,
There the drug is waiting to embrace her.
Forgot baby, left in a plastic case,
No human touch to easy your pain.
Not a word of comfort spoken.
Gone baby, stolen by death,
left this world of pain,
only two week old, not tear shed
Did you go to better place?
Published 9th Oct 2015
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 8
reading list entries 0
comments 7
reads 823
Commenting Preference:
The author encourages honest critique.
9th Oct 2015 9:51am
Ffs! kill me now... your pain is a punch to my emotions...
well said and expressed Devil...
wow...
Zazzles xoxoxox
well said and expressed Devil...
wow...
Zazzles xoxoxox
9th Oct 2015 10:07am
Sweetest, NA member, have met a lot of past alley cats that lost and left children this way.
After that hell bitch leaves their blood, veins heal.
The ghosts are alive. Or others children they fight to get back.
That hell bitch, makes hell bitches whores and different people of you, as you know. I'm just recently shaking the feel of a red light glowing sick bright over my head.
Your poem was very heart felt and skillfully done. And I'm very sure the child is no longer in pain shake undeserved withdrawals and gasp for breath. Comforted and held somewhere quite good.
I know you know, but for others addiction is a very real disease, leading to jail institutions and death. Changing women into the whores and men into criminals and whore fuckers and abusers, neither worse or better, but people. Capable of change.
Love
Jennifer
After that hell bitch leaves their blood, veins heal.
The ghosts are alive. Or others children they fight to get back.
That hell bitch, makes hell bitches whores and different people of you, as you know. I'm just recently shaking the feel of a red light glowing sick bright over my head.
Your poem was very heart felt and skillfully done. And I'm very sure the child is no longer in pain shake undeserved withdrawals and gasp for breath. Comforted and held somewhere quite good.
I know you know, but for others addiction is a very real disease, leading to jail institutions and death. Changing women into the whores and men into criminals and whore fuckers and abusers, neither worse or better, but people. Capable of change.
Love
Jennifer
9th Oct 2015 4:01pm
Wow... As Z said, this was truly felt...
Very deep n even more impactful
by the short, tight structure if each scenario... Sad, but Outstanding!
Very deep n even more impactful
by the short, tight structure if each scenario... Sad, but Outstanding!
9th Oct 2015 5:01pm
"Locked in your smooth clear tomb,
veins of the machine to sustain life."
~major pen powers m'friend.. this one slays my heart to shinies..
Your posting this in the perfect place/anger.. imo.. as you incite this heart by the read.
Brilliant write, emotions tight-knit and focused-- a masterpiece and needed ode to the
innocence always punished in today's world.. all situations for it aside, you've deeply
captured the undue agony here, ending on the only avenue of peace left to the lil ones.
excellent work Devils of P! take care ;)
~d
veins of the machine to sustain life."
~major pen powers m'friend.. this one slays my heart to shinies..
Your posting this in the perfect place/anger.. imo.. as you incite this heart by the read.
Brilliant write, emotions tight-knit and focused-- a masterpiece and needed ode to the
innocence always punished in today's world.. all situations for it aside, you've deeply
captured the undue agony here, ending on the only avenue of peace left to the lil ones.
excellent work Devils of P! take care ;)
~d
9th Oct 2015 5:07pm
this ink is powerful and brought tears to my eyes as it happens all to often..
profound in it's truth..
with love Crim
profound in it's truth..
with love Crim
Anonymous
11th Oct 2015 6:57am
Sir DPoet. . .it's been awhile since I sauntered your way, hasn't it?. . .This is an excellent piece to the flipside of a privileged life. . .you penned it so well, and your imagery was a spot-on. . .Excellent ink. . .xo, Devlin.
