There will come a time when those
awaiting birth
will be able to choose their birth parents.
The difference between love and rutting.
Nine months for some is forever.
You look at your neighbors walking by and wonder.
They still don't have any children
you have five.
You let them raise themselves, they have a plan.
You order take out ten time's a week.
They have a small garden, what they grow the two like.
Your everyone's,
have to have a cell phone at three hundred dollars a month.
They use metro and found two for the price of one.
Giving much thought to nothing, their everyone is
thoughtfully thought of.
You will never have more than you have now, they don't
need more than they have.
Yours are always yelling and fighting, there content always
living in quiet.
Giving great weight to a plan.
Would that you could all again, trapped in a world that's
insane.
No normal man proven normal and sane, would travel back
in time knowing the outcome is the same.
Up there looking down,
making good on it's choice is an unborn a child
that came with a plan.
What you have done you know that it's wrong doing it
again and again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem