Poetry

they scan my whole hovel, the so called womb
some care for me and some don't, parents I assume!

the dark, warm and the wet home, kicking it so fun
confined but she says: he's growing, that's my son!

days and times I'm attached to her, I feel her caressing
I've felt her for long time, when I cozed her obsessing

I'm sincere, so I say I've felt something so acrid
I've got use to it, but long ago, that was nothing but hatred

I've heard her days and nights screaming and having some fights
I've touched him pounding on me, seems they ignore my human rights!

it's dark and smooth, night now, feeling hangover
wish he stop kicking my home, wish it is over

I'm her imprison, in my own world, I have no way to run,
it's a cold war, I'm hiding in the shadows and waiting for the sun...