A poor soul

                        A poor soul

 A child is born, a poor soul

 Born out of love, not of foul

 Not out of wish, but of fate

 For to be loved  by all, not for hate.

 With just enough beauty to catch

 Its ancestors --for to them it has to match

 And a brain that is of enough dose

 For the pleasures it has to douse.

 Heaven sent it to a specific order

 Earth offered N'joy the odour

 But alas, the other souls on the prowl 

 Will let ? For their hands hold trowel.

 Oh God! is it your way?

 Have to be complacent it be may.

       

Author's Note

I feel so strong about child abuse