Treasure Island

Reyvrex Questor Reyes


A Fetus Speaks


How sweet the Autumn breeze
Wafting from my window
Before this Winter freeze
I could see skies are blue;
But how would I to know
Or how will I
In truth, I lie
Even as poets do,

Saying life is a race:

How could I win? My chance is lame
How could I lose? I did not play
I could not even see the game,
Because I never came to be.

'To be or not to be'
To me is not a question, never
'To be or not to be'
I was not asked, how could I answer

I am sort of outlawed;
Like the many others
Or, maybe, disallowed
By choice of some mothers;

Or, unwanted, in a sense
I could not be Jesse James
To be 'Wanted: Dead Or Alive'
Instead, I was led to contrive:
'Unwanted: Dead Or Not Alive'

Could I be just cells as hinted,
Which could be eliminated?
By pills, or prescription,
Forceps or incision,
Herbal concoction,
Lethal injection?

Rules may stop humans from dying,
And could keep one from existing,
If so, make this my epitaph
Maybe, with a small stone seraph:

Here lies John Doe
One of this Earth
But none would know
His date of birth;
And as facts are dim
In a scene of violence
Was he the victim
Or maybe, the evidence?

This, my friend, is my proposal
If accorded proper burial
And not proper waste disposal.

Submitted: Sunday, September 16, 2012
Edited: Tuesday, March 25, 2014

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Topic(s): death

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Comments about this poem (A Fetus Speaks by Reyvrex Questor Reyes )

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  • Ed Nigma (2/20/2014 8:53:00 PM)

    This very well could be the echo of a countless amount of little imaginations and consciousness's floating around out there in the wide open world of eternity gone from this world but never forgotten as they all sit around an talk about the lives they could have had. Amazing piece of work. Funny I the other day was gonna write something almost to the tee similar to this but was inspired in another direction. glad to have read this. Allan Gerard~ (Report) Reply

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