On the day I was born,
I was not for sale,
On the Day I was born,
My Parents might just fail,
On the day I was born,
Having high risk of needing brail,
High risk of being pale,
Whether I was Female or Male,

On the Day I turn Ten,
I am still not for sale,
On the Day I turn Ten,
stepping on the parents nail,
Calling my own mother a fat whale,
On the Day I turn Ten,
My father almost put me in a forever grave.

On the Day I turn eighteen,
I am not for Sale,
The Ex still using blackmail,
Almost going off the rail,
angry and ready to send a fist,
via airmail.

On the day that I die,
I still not be for sale,
when my last breathe escape,
and the lungs drown,
sounding like a ruined audiotape,
heart rate slowing down,
knowing the chruchyard, landscape,
Bury me without chemicals,
buried by sundown.