I looked down at the tiny baby in the casket.
The dark misery inside, there was no way to mask it.
I stared at the little closed eyes, hoping they'd come alive.
Maybe if I kissed the eyelids, they'd suddenly revive.
The little fingers were so still and silent.
When I touched the pinky, my soul grew violent.
The chubby and plump cheeks were too soft to touch.
The baby had been taken to early, the horror had become too much.
Why oh why were you taken from me I screamed inside.
Then they closed the casket, it was time for the baby to hide.