I learned early on never to write abortion poetry, because hate and death threat mail would come no matter which side the poet is on. So, I decided to write from both sides, and it just did not matter. But this is one example of one side.
FETUS She wasn't swayed from how she set her mind, but in a way, her heart was of a kind that loved sweet life when life was understood, but when it failed, she gave up all she could, and what was left was nothing left to find. Her emptiness gave meaning to alone, as life slipped out from all it's ever known to be disposed of by a rubber glove; the beating heart that's never proned to love, into the trash, where it can die alone. When all is done, she'll show it in her eyes, of mother-hood that she can't realize, and in the dark, her crying bloody tears will eat away at what she is, for years, and what she is--is death that never dies. There's something still inside of her, she feels it every day and every night she cries for it but it won't go away. © vee bdosa
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