Aboard The Ship Of Berth Poem by Michael Webb

I believe that being conceived is a con
A con against all living things
For life is full of deceit
The newborn longs to be free
But only evolves in the branches of a desolate tree
Left only to fall into obscurity like leaves
Forced to sing the songs of reality
That strains the vocal chords of your dreams
Left alone in the ever flowing forgotten stream
Following those who have 'starlike' gleam
Without the ability to float or swim you have no choice but to sink
Into the drowning abyss of the blackest of seas
Delve into the deception of the waves as your vision fleets

If you listen oh so close
You can hear the screams

Of the blinded baby being conceived