Aborted. By Joshua Coetzee.


Never infected

But somehow neglected

Of a month come late

To a cold tomb is my fate


Of no name

But filled with shame

Not mine of consent

But I pay a toll doubled and bent


Frail, not born

Ripped from womb and torn

Cast out with the bath water

Could my life have been shorter?


See me now and see me clear

See me once if you dare

For at least look me in the face

Before you take me from my place


What future did I have in store?

Am I not alive at my core?

Do you know when a soul is given?

Is murder not a sin?


Who are you to choose life and death?

Are you better than a junky on crystal meth?

For choice is the essence of life

So please don’t let yours, be mine of strife.


From a daughter, to a sister, and a wife

Be aware what you choose to do with life.

You are given greatness and power

You are beautiful as a new blooming flower.


You were conceived, born, and loved

You were held, and kissed, and hugged

Your were once a baby, young and new

What if your mother decided not to keep you.



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