The Shortest Story
HARRY F. CHAPIN
I am born today
The Sun burns a promise
In my eye
Mama strikes me
And I draw a breath and cry
Above me a cloud
Slowly tumbles through the sky
I am glad, to be alive
It is my seventh day
I taste the hunger
And I cry
My Brother and sister
Cling to Mama's side
She squeezes her breast
But it has nothing to provide
Someone weeps, I fall asleep
It is twenty days today
Mama does not hold me
Anymore
I open my mouth
But I am to weak to cry
Above me a bird slowly crawls across the sky
Why is there nothing
Now to do but die?
