A mother's love is forever,
Though her baby's life may not be.
The heavy death weights
Sitting upright on her tight
Chest.
Making it harder to breathe.
Quietly, softly, he did not make a sound.
Though she searched frantically
In the heat of the night
Under pressure and cracking
Leaning over the caged bed and hearing
Silence.
No still beating heart was found.
The heaving sobs in the night.
The sweltering chest pains of the next day,
They would linger over her constantly,
If she insisted to visit that grave.

She had turned him into a life,
And now forever separated.
Her love as strong as rock,
Now crumbling and faded.
If her baby's eyes were green,
The world made them super jaded.
And now he wastes away.
A life that was prematurely complicated.

My age does't define me.
I'm underdeveloped
and mentally delayed.

I burden others
with my ways-
Of making mistakes
Which even a child
would't make.

I see myself
as a weight
on everyone I touch.

Like an illness
that can't be understood
or seen.

I feel at a loss-
knowing I'm odd
Unlike others my age.

I feel independent-
Only to see,
that in reality
I'm not.

Premature at birth
is not an excuse.
To others around me,
I need to try to function
the same.

But I never get it right.
As if I try only to bring myself
back down.

To feel I'll always stay delayed
and betrayed by
my own efforts.

They say I was a miracle baby.
Surviving a 90% possibility
of death or permanent mental damage.

But no one knows
This all comes with a price-
That only degraded my worth
as I grew older.

I can't blame my own birth.
I know it's a blessing to be alive.

It only makes me wonder.
if others would perceive me differently.
As stupid.

The real world
may turn away
when they see me.

How little I could do.
However;
I was born to stay alive.

With this underdeveloped mind-
To be able
to empathise with others
in pain.

Others can judge me,
but I'll never judge myself
anymore.

I will meet others
who carry the same
heavy heart.

And we will create
a movement-
To love others just as they are.