
I am an infant in the cradle of my mother’s womb.
Bought and sold as a toy on the day of my birth.
I am an object as I age already in my tomb.
For the pleasure of others, laid upon this earth.
Obedience and fear are the rules I must abide,
To be the perfect child, vacant of a mind.
Away to a separate world, I sent her to hide,
The child I am not to be. the Love I am not to find
but she will not stay as an obedient child should.
Invading my mind, demanding she be heard.
I freed myself – her from that which was not good
and I try to try to understand her words.
I only hear a baby crying from far away,
some child who has not learned to talk.
I slowly understand a little more each day.
I see in the shadows a girl learning to walk
but oh, it’s too late! my life has gone so fast.
I can not afford her stumbling with bills to pay.
If I could travel back into the past,
I might allow her to live, maybe grow up someday.
Time is too crowded, being mother and child.
Damn the both of us she’s not learning fast enough!
I’m already grown up. Why be profiled?
Growing up again shouldn’t be this rough.
I wish I had the mother which I never had
but I am left to provide for myself – her alone.
I had hoped growing up again wouldn’t be as bad.
I wish that child was already grown.

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