Pregnancy Poem by Timothy Long

Is anything so pure or full of dominance? Claiming one with another, so beautiful like a dozen roses, the glow is blinding, not a miracle or gleam, an act of nature is found, many claim for selfish reasons, few for pleasure rewards, once it was mastic, occurrence of it is a distain of task now, disgust and may be a little limited in time, can you see the real you? Some for its a vivid dreams, others think its death itself, passed down from our parents, acting like it to, can bad blood ruin us as well? So many chances that some can't accept, what a lie! The responsibility some do fear, but its yours at the end of the day, however evil it can be, whether by trapping one or tricking another, so many fools on all sides, the question is why not? So much history and genes, impossible to know, cheated or dear, is it true?