If every child is wanted,
Why was I left to die?
If every man is born free,
Why wasn’t I freely born?

And yet I see my mother,
In a dark and dreary room,
Sitting by a window gazing out
On children playing in the street
And when she weeps to think of me
I wipe her tears away.

At night I see her dreaming
Of sad and dreadful things,
Then walks she unto the bed,
Where would I have lain,
And there she sits quietly
Weeping out her pain.

Now I stand beside her
And wipe away her tears
And now I know I’m wanted,
When I see my mother cry.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s