Mom!

I was born with tears,
Each new face gave me shivers.

I felt protected in your care,
But this world was still a nightmare.

Oh mom,

I'm your girl,
But growing up give my mind curls.

I hate those rats who live on the streets.
They have there eyes always at my knees.

I wonder if someday they kill my pride...
What if they tear up the inner child?

I pray each day... let me live...
Why do I always forget, they get affected with even a dress with half sleeve.

I care to take my voice a bit up...
But hesitate cause they might say " Shut up!"

I worry for another me, but she is not even fifteen.
The rats becomes draculars in her case,
They take her innocence as a tool and later burry her innersoul.

Mom,

Give me the strength, when I'm born else they'll prik me off when I grow old...

____________________________________

How's it?
Do tell me...