Child's Coffin
Oh thou, who cast out of the paradise, Neither a cradle in the garden of Eden Nor one in mother’s arms would suffice. All pleasures gone, a life rotten. You walk upon burning cinders fated To repent and take your ancestors’ trial by fire. To thee hast heavens prayed; A grandiose angel choir Has never once your heart weighed When you met them in pitch-black attire. A mother’s roars as thunder struck, Clouds violet weep in sorrow. A soul damned or lavished with luck, If only you were granted the morrow. A coffin the size of his room, A dread to walk through the door. He enters a crimson ballroom, A broken promise once swore, Stands in front of eminent doom The white prince tainted with a sin to bore. Once brave, now quivers in a child-sized coffin, A shrinking, suffocating hole. A twisted fate lived too often, A despicable, loathsome soul.