The hopes and dreams of a mother
Never seem to end,
Until reality besets her
And she has to try again.
Everything is dark at first
And then it turns to red.
Overwhelmed by the burst
Of clots she goes back to bed.
And waking up she realizes
The nightmare is not over.
For now, in pain, she agonizes
Over the babe she once hoped for.
She continues on with great groans
And with one big squeeze
And an inward moan
She hates that she hates what she sees.
Her eyes behold
The fruit of the pain to which she submit -
The death of the child she will never hold -
And now she has to flush it.