Ticktock, a year and another down,
I've cried crimson and crystals of pain,
On the loss of you, sunrise to sundown.
On the loss of moments I'll never regain,
Lost cuddles and gentle minutiae of your lives,
A palpable agony like the stab of a million knives.
If it be said that a system has been unjust, it is this,
For the greased lawman's palms have held firm,
Enough to tear a child's life apart to appease,
The appetence of one who means but harm,
One who'd separate a child from the mother,
And deal a perpetual struggle to a toddler.
How could I bear the sight of their clothes?
How could I not crumble under such weight?
How could I not break under such heavy blows?
How could I not dissolve into tears over such fate,
That I am not to see the children I have brought forth,
For law denies my value to them from birth thenceforth.
Why should I not share in the parenting of my children?
How am I to survive these intractable custody battles?
When every turn in the law is so frustration-ridden?
When to the law my cries are but vacuous babbles!
What am I to do but be strong for my babies,
And hope I'll still be in their memories.