Infertility
Be kinder to the tree, they say
Don’t poke or prod or cut at it
Don’t try to break its branches
Don’t run up to attack it
Be kinder to the fish, they say
Be gentle with the guppies
If caught just let it swim away
Don’t try and fish for copies
Be kinder to the little guy
Be softer, like a mother
I know you’re meant for it, they say
Helped raise your younger brother
Oh but I won’t, Oh but I can’t
Don’t want to live the horrors
I choose to not participate
To not hand out disorders
Pass down our long-lived misery
Pass down all of our karma
I choose to be a butterfly
Not trapped in my own armor
And now my future is in halves
Two choices on the table
To birth a child, or to not
I choose to not be able
Copyright © March Archer | Year Posted 2024
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