A lullaby for the stillborn infant who sleeps in a trash bag

Oh! What a sad circumstance is this?
I could have die in the war or could be blind forever.
I touched the baby girl's limbs and it's still warm.
Her poor mother has gone for milk or ran away.
And the unknown infectious father must be stuck in a brothel house?
Oh! My dear you haven't seen the precarious life in camouflage.
That's better as it's rather bitter to swallow.
Please do not open your small eyes my wingless bird
And sleep as much as you can.

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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