The Baby was Born

Hi there! Look this is my old poem. I made it when I was in high school. Check this out!

Now, the flower

No color

But, last Sunday

Could say

I love your way

Now, those waves

Lost control

Can make you fall

Roll like a ball

Now, the baby can’t cry

The baby was confuse

Where she was born

This isn’t my world

When she was born

Nothing to be seen

No flower with their color

And, there’s no wave comes over

She was born in the middle of the country

With the big war

With the lack of honest

Is it my World?

Did my mother lie about the story of “PEACE WORLD”?

Or she never knows what's happened out there?