Response
I am no longer that chubby toddler whom
crie out aloud from mothers milk.
Am pitying my self. Life that I thought I
would live to have was deprived of me .
It's hard to adjust to this dilemma.
Am pitying my self. I am full of shame and
tatty retention. How these winters got me
a cold. How the nights got long, dead silence
Am pitying my self. I have grown to
acknowledge two fosters now that In one's
eye I chose. All this in a winter shift, cold
is the treat and gloomy penetrance, blizzards
singing of impetuous tweets. Am pitying my self.
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