A child is born
to her ***** mom.
The ***** donor
has fled and gone.

The road seems hard
when walked alone,
but she has you
to depend upon.

You have family to help.
You have courage and grace.
A dependent to nurture
and the future to face.

Your tale is common,
but sadly so.
For bad boys come,
and bad boys go.

They lack the virtues
that define a man.
Who would be a father
and become a Dad.

That's why your own mom
held your hand
as you bore down
again, again.

Rewarded with a cry,
her song.
This morning early
A child is born.