The world will not let me run
My cute little feet will be crushed
Before they had a chance
To walk on a rambler
My bunged fist will never stretch
To get the warmth and love of mother
I am clogged before I can
Scream for any help
Child in a womb
Is like a bird in a cage
The trauma of discomfort and pain
Crave me to hap out
To see the exposition of happiness
Innocent child with immense beauty
Are blinded before their eyes can
Open the world to see
Because i am judged to be
A fruit of no worth
Who will wipe the
Physical and emotional scars
Why am I made to kill?
Aborted winds of thought closed in
On motherhood in despair.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
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