I was six years old with a baby on the way,
knowing I’d have to go to work, instead of outside to play.
I looked to the sky to talk to a God who never spoke back,
wondering if he knew that my purity was stained black.
I bled when he touched me, was it because Jesus was mad?
Santa must know too, he’ll bring me coal since I’m bad.
Oh no! What to do about my mom and my dad?
They’ll know about my baby, and then they’ll be sad.
How do I tell them I had sex without marriage?
When they find out, I’ll feel so embarrassed.
I’ll marry him then, run away, start a life.
I’m smart for my age, and I’ll be a good wife.
I never spoke of my fears, but I dreamed of my child.
A sweet pretty girl, with an ear-to-ear smile.
I’ll be a good mom, and I’ll raise her real well.
And I won’t let her suffer, suffer a life like my hell.
Weeks turned to months, and my baby wasn’t there.
Is she gonna be okay? I must admit I was scared.
Then I heard that the babies not born, do go to heaven.
And so I felt the loss of a child, at the young age of seven.