Surrounded by cool, foul liquid
In this cramped world of glass,
My living was never an option
For cruelty amass.
I never heard my mother’s voice
Nor felt my father’s touch
And it’s a shame to think that I exist
Not through love, but lust.
Sometimes, stupid thoughts bother me
And think I’m not loved at all
But then again, I am their own,
Their flesh, their blood, their child,
Won’t that be impossible?
I know I am but a small voice
But I have to be heard
Or else there will be more like me
Who cry, but are never answered!
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