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.