The Unborn Child
The Unborn Child
I wonder will they let me in?
Will they furnish me with life support?
I want to be my Grandpa's friend,
his pride, his joy, and his hero in sports.
Really, it’s not his decision
for these nine months to go on through.
Mom and Dad, it’s up to your religion
to see that I’m worthwhile and needed, too.
Oh God, I’ll make them love me,
please, God, tell them both to go on.
I won't act hardheaded, nor wicked nor will I be ,
apathetic and sad, nor gripe and moan.
I’ll lie restfully in my Mother's arms.
Please, God, tell them both to let me be
BORN.
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