His Fault

Sheetless matress, unborn dead,
Angry words never said.
Fingernails are black escapes,
Death is always never late.
Father's anger never hunches,
In her stomach, Practiced punches.
New souls was on it's way,
He made the angels take it away.
Passionate sex, unborn child,
Fear is usually only mild.
Forhead sticky, beads of sweat,
Two people that had never met.
Fist are bawled into tight hands,
He doesn't seem much like a man.
Stomach pooched and swollen hard.
Fist are rared back too far.
Stomach dents it , then sinks,
He hopes that baby is extinct.
Little cries are heard too loud,
Coming from an unborn child.

Breathe heavy down his back,
Make the b*st*rd still react.
Look him dead straight in the eye,
Make him wish that he would die.
Consequences take the mind,
Guilt takes all from behind.
White lies, turning black,
Chilled, shaken, beating back.
Words stutter from his mouth,
All elevators go down south.
Fist pound from deep inside,
Noisy thoughts set aside.
Let us pray, Let us eat,
Let him fall into a deep sleep.
Death will be coming soon,
From inside a mother's womb.