Raindrops of Reality - [poetry]

Birth

Suckling at the teat of his mother,
a newborn strive for some air.
Undeserved brutality of life,
For not long are you

Birthed, to strident light.
Ruthless sterility, and blinding white
lights scalpels and machines;
A distant cry from delicious comfort,
Incessantly lulls your enchanted mind.
For not long, are you

Perspiration on your head,
Pain in your chest,
Fever of new sentience,
or a forthcoming life taken.
You will never perceive.
For not long are you.

Resentful must it be
To predestine babies of preposterous purity;
A Mother's hands quiver.
Release your inherent hindmost
postnatal cry.
For not long, are you

Unbeknown to what you shall omit,
As innocence plagues your mind.
No memory shall you potentially have,
No memory can you possibly make,
For not long were you.