Melancholy

Extraneous she is,new to life;so little,

so brittle.

Holding few strings,
she announced of new springs;

smiles crept,

elders wept.

Reinforcing faith,

they showered praise;

no prejudice,

only rejoice.

Inside the womb,

she begin to brawn;

a girth,

the mirth.

But, the loathe's pervasive,

man's aggressive;

for the lamp,

just few "cramp".

Behold! you zealots,

an unborn,

so pure,

can't you reckon!

A daughter,

a sister,

a mother,

she's the bringer of future.

Don't vitiate the life,

let her culminate, and ripe!

Recall, the conscience,
abhor, the nescience,

don't kill, for she's holy.

Please come forward, to end this melancholy.