The Imperfection of the Imperfect

The clock is ticking by,

I wonder what's in your mind,

Your eyes look worried,

Your face is weary.

.

.

Mama,

Are you thinking of me,

The imperfection of all kind,

That no one wants to be,

Keeping behind your mind.

.

Now, as the night is calm,

The time has come,
When both of us,

Confront our fears,

I could hear your heartbeat,

Every second, every beat,

It's so strong,

What has gone wrong?

Then, suddenly there's a halt,

I am here and you are there,

You want me not,

I think don't dare.

Mama,

Why aren't you looking at me?

Am I so really ugly?

The imperfect creature I could be,

That never even look nicely.

Slowly you open your eyes,

I could see right through your mind,

As the tears betray your disguise,

When I die, it's a sign.

.

Mama,

Don't you cry,

Though we both know why,

You are not perfect,

As I may not expect,

You have a piece of me,

As you may not see,

And I have a piece of you,

Forever it's true.

Mama,

I wish we both know how,

but,

Mama,

I have to go now........

P.S: Dedicated to all mothers and their unlived children