A BLOOD – STAINED DIAPER.

Mom used to call me her 'Squishmallow', 

Dad addressed me as his 'Princess Of Snow', 

I was just three months old, a newborn, 

To their moonless nights, I was like a sunny morn. 

I had worn no short dress,

No one did I try to impress, 

Neither was I out too late,

Nor did I go on any blind date.

Smiling at that musical rotating rattle,

I loved to play and sleep in my comfy cradle, 

I enjoyed seeing my sister clap, sing, hop and play, 

But to be utterly ruined, destined were those days of gay. 

My diapers were not soiled or filled with dirt, 

Neither did I attempt to seduce or flirt, 

They were still taken off by that beast, 

Who used visit my dad, behaved as pious as a priest. 

I had only milk, no other food I was fed, 

But my frock was torn, got drenched in red, 

I did not jump or play in dirt,

Still my legs cramped, thighs were also hurt. 

They all pitied me as I was brutally molested,

So many times I was medically tested, 

My body was drenched in pool of injuries,

Doctors too performed multiple surgeries.

For everyone else, it's a matter of past,

My wounds have healed, scars shall last, 

I live now ,with this strong inner belief,

Only death can place my soul on the ice of relief.