Unborn Son Poem by Christopher's Dead

Flickered souls and eyes are gazing
Peering at the unborn son, behold
The things that demote a man
To begging with his knees upon the floor:

The beauty of nature walked to graze
As though the trees reach down to touch
The rays of sun that spreads the horizon
Like open arms to his unborn son;

A fire burning remiss amongst the whole
And shards fall out of the sky like bombs,
To hear the horrified warmth within
Like the unheard cry of his unborn son;

A perfect sunset bled to sleep,
The sandman pours his livestock onto heads
That need the hope and prayers of slumber
Like closing the eyes of his unborn son;

A speed of blasts and colors,
Engines roar still from the haunting motion
To have caused the crash to kill them both
Like the feeling he gets from his unborn son.