I don't own bleach… at least not yet ;P

This poem isn't pretty,

It's not a song.

It is not funny or witty,

And it isn't even that long.

I shouldn't cry,

I shouldn't scream.

I don't know why,

But you've become my dream.

They say they are rescuing me,

But I just want to join you.

Now that they have set me free,

They ponder who.

Who blessed me with this darling gift,

That smiles at me,

And my soul just lifts.

They should open their eyes and see.

Our little boy has black hair,

Just like his father's before him.

His pale skin is so fair,

And he never acts on whim.

Some of them see but do not say,

Off their tongues your name is tin.

He looks more like you day by day,

How dare they think our son is a sin.

I miss you so much,

But don't you worry.

Giving him up pains me so much,

But I'm coming to you in a hurry.

This poem go's with my story "Good bye, Hello!"

Please give the poor little review button some love. He's lonely.