The Complaint Of The Child Poem by Ebhodaghe Godstime

The blind has no blame
Refusing to see
Neither has the lame
Refusing to leap
I'm an infant
I'm not an adult

Mute to calling is the deaf
The blind the same sees no threat
If my parents would study
They would understand me
Life doubtless' of stages been
Too many blames
Too many lashes
If the turn of events could be of me
Adult with speed
I will turn indeed

I'm not deliberate
Nor so desperate
Clean up my city
I will be dirt free
Give me my habor
I will not spoil your structures
Pampers in my buttocks
I will not mess up
My right is my right

My Adam's tree
Is yet unweaned
Neither yet do I
Answer left or right
Rather of the child
My right is my right