O unborn child
Why must you fuss
Your notorious kicks
Trouble mama
Still in the womb
An exciting terror .
Wait a little wont you ;
For when the time comes ?
Shhh..
Is it because u never lived ?
Neither could you breathe ?
Silent when birthed ,quietly you died ,
And..
This void of noise crowded Papa's nights
O unborn child
Your wreckless ecstasy
Your pathetic imploring
Your tricks and trauma
Are now so still and selfish
You could never heave a sigh
Not utter ba ba
O unborn child
What could have been ?
Had you not as a sadist
chosen to ;
Remain unborn forever.
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THE DESCRIPTION OF SAINT GIANNA BERETTA MOLLA
The Patroness of Doctors, Wives and Unborn Children
Feast Day: April 28
Gianna Beretta Molla became a pediatric physician, a wife, a mother and a saint!
She was born in Magenta near Milano, the tenth of Alberto and Maria Beretta’s 13 children. An active member of the St. Vincent de Paul Society and a leader in the Catholic Action movement, Gianna also enjoyed skiing and mountain climbing. She earned degrees in medicine and surgery from the University of Pavia, eventually specializing in pediatrics. In 1952, Gianna opened a clinic in the small town of Mesero, where she met engineer Pietro Molla.
Shortly before their 1955 marriage, Gianna wrote to Pietro: "Love is the most beautiful sentiment that the Lord has put into the soul of men and women."
In the next four years the Mollas had three children: Pierluigi, Mariolina, and Laura. Two pregnancies following ended in miscarriage.
Early in her final pregnancy, doctors discovered that Gianna had both a child and a tumor in her uterus. She allowed the surgeons to remove the tumor but not to perform the complete hysterectomy that they recommended, which would have killed the child.
Seven months later in April 1962, Gianna Emanuela Molla was born at the hospital in Monza, but post-operative complications resulted in an infection for her mother. The following week Gianna Molla died at home, and was buried in the cemetery of Mesero.
Gianna Emanuela went on to become a physician herself. Gianna Beretta Molla was beatified in 1994 and canonized 10 years later.
Source: Franciscan Media
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As usual, the Irish have it right
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*Sandalphon walks around the palace, stumbling upon a blanket fort and peering inside. Bea looks up from their book and smiles at him nervously, not recognising the archangel.*
~Hello there, little one. Can I have your name?~
#…Mama said to not answer strangers that question.#
~Ah, well, I am Sandalphon, the archangel of unborn children and music. I’m not a stranger anymore, so problem solved.~
*Bea seems to think it over, before shaking their head*
#Mama and Papa haven’t mentioned you so I shouldn’t trust!#
~So rude to not answer to your elders.~
#But-#
~-Really, for your mother and father not to be teaching you manners is such a shame. Who are they? I must have a word. Especially since they are letting you just… clutter up the palace I live in.~
#…I don’t- Mama and Papa are- they- you live here..?#
~Indeed I do. Though really, aren’t you too old to be calling your parents such childish names?~
#…They’re Mama and Papa-#
~Insolent little brat. Take this… thing down before I inform the Heavenly Father.~
*Bea tears up a little, and Sandalphon scoffs before kicking at one of the pillows, making the blanket roof fall onto Bea, causing them to yelp. He grabs the blanket, pulling at their hair in the process.*
#Let me go!#
~Now now, child, I am not even touching you, stop kicking up a fuss over nothing.~
*Sandalphon pulls the blanket, yanking a chunk of their hair out. A scream echoes throughout Heaven.*
( @angels-maybe )
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The last bit of mockingjay with the assault on snow’s mansion is such a perfect microcosm of the hunger games. Snow is protecting himself from the war by using children’s lives as a buffer of safety. And he doesn’t kill them himself, no. He makes the districts do it. The hunger games is, as A Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes describes, snow’s way of *containing* the war between the capital and the districts- done by making the district’s children fight it out. This is much the same- snow is containing himself from the war, keeping it Out There instead of In Here, by throwing children into the fray
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just randomly unearthed an unhinged memory so im sharing it because its also kinda funny. so basically when i was like 10 i used to write really bad fanfic on my parents ipad. like REALLY bad, very obviously written by some little kid, and for some reason i started a multi chapter fic about lady and the tramp?? i have no idea why i did that since i didnt even like the movie that much. so then randomly someone who was famous in the cats fandom (i was really into cats the musical for some reason. its weird that im not a furry honestly) asked me if they could do a MSTing of my fic and i was like sure :o) (has never heard that word before but an adult is talking to me so i smile and nod) so they basically write a running sitcom commentary over my fic which honestly was very harmless in hindsight but it absolutely SHATTERED tween me’s confidence. i commented on that persons fic like haha very funny!! i can take a joke!!! and then i never posted anything on that account ever again. that fic is forever stuck at 1/? 300 words. and i wonder if that person is haunted by what they did. did they wait for the next update just to make fun of that too and then it never came? did they have to carry the weight of what they did on their shoulders forever or did they never even notice? did it feel good to have that power?? anyways then i didnt do any creative writing for like ten years until the macden mental illness got too bad. and the funniest thing of all is the fact that their cats fanfic sucked balls. and they were in their twenties so they had NO excuse!!!
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