I am Diaper

• Published:October 6th, 2008
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I day dream of the place of my birth. Under the bight light and whirring machines, of the diaper factory I was concieved and born. Everything was so clean and white. I was amongst all my brothers and sisters there. We laughed and giggled. How earnest and young we were. Through all the subsequent years of suffering and pain I often try to picture my mother and father. But the image seems just out of reach. I don’t know what to feel, but I feel I miss them.