Eighteen Years Ago -On Abortion

I want to tell a tale in a poem About a girl age eighteen who has dreamed Of going abroad to increase the coin That she already has here in our stream. But there's a hindrance to her ambition She has a tiny thing inside her womb That stops the flow of her hopeful vision So she decided to put up the tomb. She banned her conscience at that point in time By pushing an unborn angel to die Using a liquid that lessens the line That connects the two in motherly tie. Aborted, the angel did not come see And sad thing is that the baby is me.