she sobbed and pled in agony
it didn't even flinch or consider
as she whimpered on both her knees
hoping it would spare the babe inside her
not long after, it makes her bed
for the next guy in line to meet death,
kills the trees planted in their stead
erodes their names off the gravestone’s breadth
festoons her room with dense cobwebs
blankets her baby's crib in dust
writes new scripts as her memory ebbs
pressing on her this earthen crust
two civilizations later
mighty storms would lay bare her ribs
and glorified carbon daters
would for casts of their remains call dibs
she'd be poked and displayed naked
her yet unborn son prodded and propped
and though in no way being wicked,
her baby would a few times be dropped
time ignores us at its kindest
tramples our remains at its worst
as when our late bloom we detest
or lay clueless to sewers burst
It’s not time we need. We need adequate intervention!
Thanks for reading my poem. If you enjoyed it, then you will enjoy this one:
