Natal Day by Tulus
Benighted scene by the darkened lake,
In the gloomfull, dispiriting black.
Born from a mother not awake,
Blood is the solitary track.
Knifelike rain in cuttings wind,
Lashed against a dying mother's face.
The owls sighed, the reaper grinned,
Human scent, so easily traced.
Harvester of the dead,
Inescapably led
To her inalterable bed.
Left on the soaked moss, her male child,
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