In sweat she was drenched, 
her fists clenched.

In agony she screamed,
her overjoyed husband beamed.

She cursed him angrily for the boy she never desired,
The man couldn't hear her, for in came the seed he sired.

She had drunk the witch's potion 
and waited days for the abortion. 

But the seed that grew in her womb,
was just her fated path to her tomb.

“| knew it would be a boy" cried the man
overjoyed, through the palace he ran.

"God bless our divine King" cheered a minister,
Yet the Queen viewed the King as far more sinister

For before the boy, had come many a girls
But the King held more dearly, his sapphires and his pearls

Meanwhile the boy's head was stuck, the queen toiled in strife
“Her flower cannot bloom any further" cried a midwife

The Queen beat her hands bloody, the pain she couldn't bear
“Give her some milk of poppy" said the King in a tone of prayer

At last they pulled the boy out and listened for a wail
But he didn't make a sound and looked ever so pale

"The boy didn't live" said the doctor under his breath
The King, he went hysteric at the sight of his Prince's death

He kicked the Queen, he cussed her wildly,
With the coveted heir gone, he cried on childly

“You couldn't give me a boy, you impotent wretched crone”
But the Queen lay forever still, colder than a stone 

This poem is written by our Youth Champion from India, Kartik Iyer, on the 3rd day of ASAP Youth Advocacy Institute.