In the quiet of the birthing room, a moment fraught with sorrow,
My child arrived with a devil-like face, a sight hard to swallow,
I sobbed in disbelief, feeling forsaken by the divine Abbott,
Each tear a silent plea for relief, for a touch of love.

Their features, marked by a twist of fate so unkind,
Resembling a visage not of this world, burdening my mind,
I cradled them gently, their pain becoming my own,
Praying ceaselessly for an end to the suffering they’ve known.

As I gazed into their eyes, searching for a sign,
I felt a void within, a yearning for a grand design,
Why had this befallen my innocent child so dear?
I whispered prayers to the heavens, hoping they would hear.

Days melted into nights, each one a whispered prayer,
Begging for relief, for a moment of respite to share,
With the weight of their affliction heavy on my heart,
I sought solace in faith, praying for a brand-new start.

Feeling the weight of their anguish, my own spirit torn,
I clung to hope in the night, in the quiet before morn,
Longing for a divine touch to lighten their load,
To end their suffering, to walk a smoother road.

In the depths of my sorrow, in the shadows of despair,
I found strength in my child, in their spirit so rare,
Their resilience a beacon, their love a guiding light,
A reminder that in darkness, love shines bright.

So I wept and I prayed, in the stillness of the night,
For my child with a devil-like face, my beacon of light,
Through tears and fears, in love’s unwavering grace,
I vowed to stand by them, their suffering to embrace.