Somebody's Baby

Somebody’s Baby, lie still Embalmed in pure white cotton, Cocooned securely, like the babe in arms within the shroud. Seraphim cavort no more upon a form once touched with shades of youthful innocence. Somebody’s Baby, be sure. Your time for dreams now spent, No future beckons only time captured frame by frame, Frozen in vulgar technicolor; Close Up; Explicit, depicting genre yet unclassified; The epic over exposed. Somebody's Baby, be silent. Grey and gnarled imposter in the cot Metamorphosis contrives a landscape dry and gnarled. No more seductress of tender ministry; Solitary, silently; endures the travesty Of human demise.