The Dead Clock

My biological clock, never had a chance.

A hollow soul

Am I.

 

As I stand before you

Seeking the possible

From the unfathomable

Denied to me

By birth.

 

Wanting to do

What is medically dangerous

For all involved.

 

To hold

Within my arms

A child

Who I gave birth to.

 

A yearning

Which grows stronger

With each baby carriage

I see.

 

Wanting to curse

The cruel fate

Dealt to me

At birth

By pure chance.

 

Knowing

What I want

And what I can do

Are two different things

Miles apart.

 

Never

Shall the twain meet

In this lifetime.