Fetal Futility

With back-bent discouragement,

my head bowed to evade

Failure’s pressing gaze.



I rocked back and forth

as teary sobs that began

in the womb became my lullaby.



How those who once delivered me

into the arms of Potential

wondered why promise died.



Their words were filled with

barrenness and I was merely

the miscarried product of their lies.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Inspired by the cliche: the hand that rocks the cradle.

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