Once upon a time, beneath a sky that did not shine, a child was born.
The clouds stood still, the air turned chill, no soul dared sing till morn.
No wind did speak, no stars would peek, just silence cold as scorn,
As if the world already mourned the shadow newly born.
She held him close, her trembling hands, the moment he drew breath,
His skin was pale, his heartbeat frail, yet holding off from death.
No cry he made, no sound he gave, just silence, deep and grim,
A chest that moved, lips that proved, a life burned low within.
His flesh was thin, his bones too sharp, a ghost in newborn form.
Yet in her arms, he glowed like sparks, though barely keeping warm.
She kissed his head, ignored the dread, and hummed a lullaby,
For love still blooms in haunted rooms where even hope won’t try.
But whispers crawled from hut to hut, and soon their circle grew,
They came with fearful eyes, unsure of what they knew.
They saw no grace, no mother’s face, no warmth behind her gaze,
They only saw a cursed child, and shrieked with darkened craze.
“A demon born!” the elders cried, their fingers stiff with blame,
“Behind those eyes the darkness lies!” the villagers proclaimed.
“A child of doom born from the womb, to feast upon our pain!”
In bitter prayers, they begged their gods to cleanse them with cold rain.
But she stood firm, she bowed to none, no fear within her stare,
She held him tight, her only light, while hate thickened the air.
She did not speak, she did not beg, her heart refused to bend,
Her silence roared like thunderstorms that never found their end.
She named him not with spoken words nor sacred scrolls of art,
She carved his name in sleepless nights, and bled it from her heart.
In every glance, in every dance, in every aching limb,
She wrapped him in a love so fierce, the stars grew pale and dim.
Not fire alone could tell her tale, nor warmth explain her part,
She was the night that fed the flame and burned her beating heart.
Each morning came with golden rays, and still she rose with grace,
She combed her hair, dressed with care, a smile upon her face.
No mirror praised, no voices raised, no friendly words were said,
Yet joy she knew, as mothers do, untouched by fear or dread.
She wrapped him close in faded cloth, her heart a gentle drum,
She hummed a tune beneath the moon; he heard her softly hum.
Through village roads, past fearful eyes, she walked with quiet pride,
To fields of green, where sunlight gleamed, and beauty softly sighed.
There she danced, there she twirled, her eyes ablaze with flame,
She sang of dreams, of stars and beams, and spoke his holy name.
She laughed beneath the golden sun, kissed softly his pale cheek,
Each breath she breathed, the flowers bloomed, her love began to speak.
Yet from the shadows hatred glared, eyes burning with dark fear,
Their whispers sharp, their patience thin, their footsteps drawing near.
Yet still she danced in gentle trance, on fields no darkness knew,
Unknowing drums of death drew close, their plans darkly grew.
Mouths turned cruel, their whispers grew, stones gripped in shaking hands,
With torches high and axes sharp, they came with dark commands.
“You brought us doom! This child brings gloom! Let death erase your shame!”
They dragged her forth, condemned her child, and cursed her broken name.
She screamed, not pain, but terror deep, that mothers should not bear,
She clutched him tight through screams of night and fled in wild despair.
Through bloody trails, past shadowed vales, she ran without a sound,
Into the woods, where horror stood, where hope could not be found.
She found a ruin, cold and stark, forgotten by the past,
With broken walls and silent halls, and there she stopped at last.
No food, no fire, only breath, cold nights and endless dread,
Till soft he cried, a hunger sighed, the tears her heart now bled.
She searched the earth with trembling hands, found nothing left to feed,
With stone in hand, she made her plan, and carved herself to bleed.
Not fast nor clean, with pain unseen, she fed him flesh and bone,
His lips would part, he warmed her heart, her agony unknown.
Yet hunger stayed, again he cried, her flesh now scarce and cold,
She lay upon the frozen earth, her final story told.
She opened wide her fading arms and pulled him to her chest,
She let him feed, no fire to bleed, her love his final rest.
Night stole her strength, her vision dimmed, her heartbeat soft and thin,
He took her flesh, her sacrifice, consumed her from within.
Her love became his silent tomb, her blood his final feast,
She passed away in darkest night, embracing her own beast.
Her body cold, disgraced, alone, beneath a sky unkind,
Her horror deep, her love complete, no peace her heart could find.
In silent ruins, dark and grim, she breathed her final sigh,
A mother’s love, profound and dark, in agony did die.