In the quiet chambers of my heart, a prayer unfolds,
For my child, who feels abandoned, their story untold,
Deformed hands, a burden they quietly bear,
Causing sorrow and pain, a weight hard to share.

In the depths of their eyes, a longing resides,
A feeling of being forsaken, where hope hides,
Their deformed hands, a mark of silent strife,
A challenge they face, carving through their life.

Each day, as the sun rises in the sky,
I lift my voice in prayer, tears in my eye,
Pleading for God’s assistance, for His grace to descend,
To alleviate my child’s suffering, to help them mend.

Their deformed hands, a source of much sorrow,
A reminder of challenges faced tomorrow,
Yet in their spirit, a flame still burns bright,
A resilience that shines through the darkest night.

I pray for relief from their silent pain,
For God’s mercy to fall like gentle rain,
Granting my child solace, a path to happiness,
Guiding them through trials, through darkness and distress.

In the stillness of dawn, in the hush of night,
I seek comfort in faith, in a flickering light,
Hoping for a miracle, for a healing touch,
To show my child that they are loved so much.

Beside them, I stand, a beacon of love and care,
Embracing them gently, offering a silent prayer,
For in their struggle, I see a strength so rare,
A spirit unbroken, a resilience that dares.

So I pray each day, with love in my heart,
For my child to find relief, for their suffering to depart,
To know that in their deformed hands lies a story of grace,
A journey of courage, of strength to embrace.