Erika, why do you keep aborting me? I feel like I'm nothing but a foreign tissue on your womb and you keep rejecting me. Why am I not allowed to develop, to grow, to set my tired veins into you and eventually be born?
What type of mother are you, that only have eyes for your own children? I fell on your nest I know, by accident, but Im not feeding on your children, Im not the cuckoo's egg. I love your children as well as I love you.
Your breasts are full of milk, proud, wealthy mother of beautiful sunsets and foggy cold mornings, so much for you to give and so much sweat, love and admiration for me to offer and yet you won't see me as your son.
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