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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