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.