Feb 2016
hello, its me.
I know you don't want to speak to me, you've made that very clear.
but I just wanted to see my mother once, and listen to her call me her dear.
I want to know how you could deny me of my life?
How you could not even look into my unborn eyes and say "take it away, it doesn't deserve life."
All I wanted was a chance, to understand what happiness felt like, to see light upon someone's darkened day.
I wanted to wake up 4 years old with crayon stain walls, to run barefoot down a long back hallway.
I wanted to yell at the age of 24, front row of a concert, listening to a band I'll never hear because I wasn't born.
The irony in being dead at too young to even be considered old.
I won't get to learn to walk or play, have you told my father that he won't get to see his little girl some day?
I'm sorry to bother, but I just wanted to see how someone could get rid of me, and yet here I am, wondering how I could still love you even after you've killed me.
I understand you don't want to talk to me, but I haven't made things clear.
I guess this feeling inside of me is sadness, I can't really feel. How could you? 3 years down the road, with a kid to call your own, be able to wake up in the morning and not feel alone, like something was missing, a 3 year old.
I guess I will never understand and be constantly wondering why, that my own mother could sit there and lie to an unborn child, who will never get to see the outside.
You go run and sing with your new baby, show them all the things I'll never see, and know that your unborn daughter is waiting patiently, to the day I can look you in the eyes and ask you why.
sjr
I know you don't want to speak to me, you've made that very clear.
but I just wanted to see my mother once, and listen to her call me her dear.
I want to know how you could deny me of my life?
How you could not even look into my unborn eyes and say "take it away, it doesn't deserve life."
All I wanted was a chance, to understand what happiness felt like, to see light upon someone's darkened day.
I wanted to wake up 4 years old with crayon stain walls, to run barefoot down a long back hallway.
I wanted to yell at the age of 24, front row of a concert, listening to a band I'll never hear because I wasn't born.
The irony in being dead at too young to even be considered old.
I won't get to learn to walk or play, have you told my father that he won't get to see his little girl some day?
I'm sorry to bother, but I just wanted to see how someone could get rid of me, and yet here I am, wondering how I could still love you even after you've killed me.
I understand you don't want to talk to me, but I haven't made things clear.
I guess this feeling inside of me is sadness, I can't really feel. How could you? 3 years down the road, with a kid to call your own, be able to wake up in the morning and not feel alone, like something was missing, a 3 year old.
I guess I will never understand and be constantly wondering why, that my own mother could sit there and lie to an unborn child, who will never get to see the outside.
You go run and sing with your new baby, show them all the things I'll never see, and know that your unborn daughter is waiting patiently, to the day I can look you in the eyes and ask you why.
sjr
