From the day it came to be,
life was traded, given free,
knew it not – what is me?
Spared no joy or warmth or mirth.
Given up as skin and bone,
born to walk the world alone,
empty soul and heart of stone.
Spared no time or date of birth.
Wander freely through the air,
caught too soon, beaten bare,
now a blank and empty stare.
Spared no love or counterpart.
Sold as ragged human waste,
cut off from cherub and the chaste,
torture, dread, abandon, faced.
Spared no food and torn apart.
Roger's Rhymes & Rambles 