Consequences

In the whisper of a silent plea, where shadows mourn past bliss. 

A mother teeters at life's precarious ledge,

Clutching a ring—the last link to a love swallowed by the abyss. 

Her world, a memory of trials, sewn with resilience's thread. 

A wedding dress, a hauntly memory, hangs untouched, 

Its lace whispers of the "I do" that once filed the air, 

Now a ghostly veil in a world unjust, 

Each thread unravels under the relentless gaze of despair. 

Through bustling streets she threads, her silence screaming loud, 

Each stranger’s face reflects her hidden torment, 

Alone in the crowd, shrouded yet proud, 

Motherhood her anchor, her relentless commitment. 

She sells her memories for her child's next meal, 

Starvation her constant shadow, a relentless thief, 

Yet in her child’s giggles, her sorrows are momentarily shed, 

In that pure joy, her deepest wounds unseen. 

Regret gnaws at her as she parts with the ring, 

A token of love now bartered for sustenance, 

But in the night’s quiet, a desperate plan takes wing, 

She reclaims the ring, a perilous path she chooses to take. 

Beneath her calm, a storm rages wild, 

The depth of oceans, fierce, concealed in her weep, 

Born from the void, where anguished souls weep, 

Forged in the boundless love for her child. 

In her heart’s secret garden, where deep sorrows grow, 

Grows the unyielding power of a single mother's love, 

A force that stands mighty and fearsome, a lone anchorage, 

Beneath the vast, indifferent skies above. 

The act undone, the stolen ring back in her grasp, 

A symbol she thought would restore some faded hope, 

Yet consequences come swift, a fateful clasp, 

Bringing not salvation, but a steeper slope. 

In the quiet corners of her mind, battles rage, 

Her steps once sure, now falter under strain, 

The world oblivious, a stage of enemies wrought, 

To the tragedy that unfolds, the impending pain. 

The crowd may pass, the seasons change, 

Her spirit broken, her resolve now frayed, 

One cold evening, disaster strikes—cruel and strange, 

Her child taken; a price too steep to have paid. 

Her child’s cries pierce the silent night, 

Too young to understand, too frail to fight, 

Beside her lifeless form, the ring shines dim, 

A cruel message left, Hope, and reality, now forever grim.