In the hush of the delivery room, a moment heavy with despair,
My child born with a face deformed like a devil, a burden hard to bear,
Tears streamed down my face, a river of sorrow and grief,
Feeling abandoned by God, seeking solace in belief.

Their features twisted, a cruel hand dealt by fate,
Resembling a devil’s visage, a challenge so great,
I held them close, their pain piercing my heart,
Praying fervently each day for a brighter new start.

As I looked into their eyes, searching for a sign,
I felt a void within, a question of the divine,
Why had this befallen my precious child so dear?
In whispered prayers, I sought a path clear.

Days turned into weeks, a cycle of hope and fear,
Praying for relief, for a change to appear,
For the suffering etched upon their innocent face,
Hoping against hope for a moment of grace.

Feeling the weight of their anguish, my own burden to bear,
I found strength in prayer, in the depths of my care,
Longing for a divine touch to ease their plight,
To bring an end to their suffering, to make their world bright.

In the depths of my sorrow, in the shadows of night,
I found courage in their spirit, a flicker of light,
Their resilience a beacon, their love so pure,
A reminder that in darkness, hope endures.

So I wept and I prayed, in the silence of each day,
For my child with a face deformed, my guiding ray,
Through tears and fears, in love’s gentle embrace,
I vowed to stand by them, their suffering to efface.