The unborn

The unborn
Innocent  and dumbfounded.
She balls up in fear of this new warmth and thorn that keeps poking her side.
She decides she needs hands to push the penitrating hating thorn in wich sticks her side with monsters moan following behind.
She decides she needs feet so she can kick the monsters ass when and ever she gets a chance nowing the monster is no romance.

Thoughts come to mind like a river flowing into the see;

If he's big, Will I be able to run him over with a big rig?
So she grows a little taller.
How will I stop a punch? And starts to kick like a beating drum as hard as she can so she gets fed and grows a litter bigger.

She balls back up lost in wonder like a daisy trying to push through the mountain of mounds of hell it had encountered when it to realized her thoughts where true.

The night turns to light ,the monsters voice into a beast.
The warmth into cold, as she heads out to make a feast out of the monster she had locked up in her mind.

She loses the first round and starts to cry,as the thought for the second round comes building might.

A war has just begun, now will she ever make it run?!!

Submitted in a rush to forum called

Poetry competition. Respectfully. Enjoy