Repentance On Birth

It would have been good if you had killed me in the womb.
Instead you tortured me to death.
It would have been good if you had buried my body in your mental catacomb.
Instead, you slowly had me out of breath.

What was the need to raise me?
When you finally had to take the knife?
What was the need to feed me?
When you had to forsake me in my already lonely life?

I never knew the milk I grew up on would later poison me.
It’s got me dying of several pains.
I never knew your tender love would turn to killing spree.
It’s difficult to wash away the stains.

The long, dark, sleepless nights that I had to face,
Repenting on my birth.
Why did you do all those to make me hate you even more?
Why? Why? Why? Why on earth?

You give me birth and then you let me die.
You raise me , then erase the reason of my life.
You make me smile and then you make me cry.
You held my hand so long and then left me in the middle of my strife.

I’m down with these scars and bruises.
They might not wash away.
Maybe the physical bruises will.
But what about the scars in my heart?