We are all born feeble,
From the moment we are born,
The first sign of life,
Are tears of a newborn child,
The mother will cradle it,
Hold them close to her chest,
Till the infant is soothed by the soft rhythm of her authentic heartbeat,
But,
The child will soon grow,
Their pillow becoming their ocean,
And their eyes, waterfalls,
But mother doesn't hear it,
Nor does she see it,
She doesn't cradle the broken doll,
She only weeps at the sight of a Polaroid,
The one where her child first showed sign of living,
And,
Now she knows,
The first sign of death,
Is the silent cry of suicide.
- you did nothing wrong
