A Child With A Child

They say we girls who have baby's at my age are dumb and miserable.

We are looked down from society, we are the unwanted cavities found

by mothers in their child's mouth. We become the deserted and lonely,

the forgotten and the outcasted. 

They say, 'Her Momma was the same, both so young' and shake their

judgemental heads. But what do they know? They weren't there

when I had noone, when I had not a soul to talk to. They weren't 

there when he came along and told me everything a broken girl

needed to hear. They weren't there when he layed me down

and looked in my eyes, his (what seemed then) loving eyes.

They weren't there. They weren't. They weren't. And I didn't know then

he wouldn't be here now. And that's why they talk.

Everyone makes mistakes, do something they're not proud of

but I'm the young one the baby carrying a baby, the child with a child.

I never wanted to be, but where were they?

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