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Literature Text
My life ended the coinciding second that it began.
Mama let mean people hurt her,
Inject lethal chemicals into her
To get rid of the "thing" inside her.
I could hear her heart beating so fast;
Feel each palpitation in unison with mine.
She was warm, too warm,
And her head clouded with her life goals.
Mama names me "An Abomination"
I liked that name.
She cooed it to me while I slept once
Telling me how much of a mistake I was.
But then when the chemicals hit my bloodstream...
Everything went blank.
The daily noises stopped and my name was no longer uttered.
Only a cold black filled me.
The mistake was corrected and Mama left.
She left me behind with no second thoughts.
No one can listen to my cries or laughter, my voice...
They never could and never will.
Mama let mean people hurt her,
Inject lethal chemicals into her
To get rid of the "thing" inside her.
I could hear her heart beating so fast;
Feel each palpitation in unison with mine.
She was warm, too warm,
And her head clouded with her life goals.
Mama names me "An Abomination"
I liked that name.
She cooed it to me while I slept once
Telling me how much of a mistake I was.
But then when the chemicals hit my bloodstream...
Everything went blank.
The daily noises stopped and my name was no longer uttered.
Only a cold black filled me.
The mistake was corrected and Mama left.
She left me behind with no second thoughts.
No one can listen to my cries or laughter, my voice...
They never could and never will.
Literature
Love
Love
Flower, flower
Sweet, red and mine
You make my world spin
You make my words rhyme
Blossom, blossom
How pretty you are
The te
Literature
My Promises To You
I promise to always love you
Today and every day that follows
I am handing you my heart
May it go wherever yours goes
I promise to never leave you
I will stand forever by your side
There's nothing that can break us
When our hearts are intertwined
I promise that in our dying days
When nothing is as it was before
Not only will I still love you
I will love you even more
Literature
apocryphal
so cunning and seemingly honest
at times there is nothing but wit
yet not quite real on the inside
but nothing we care to admit
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Comments14
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The interesting thing with poems like this is that they are functionally possible. The baby cannot be aware of such things because he is incapable of consciousness at this point(at least until the end of the second trimestre).