WORDS OF AN ARBORTED SOUL
- 11 Jun 2015
Let my plight speaketh through this quill
So that all can hear my souls’ silent shrill
To the ones who think it is right to kill
A child unborn, innocence blood to spill
Through doctors who abuse their skill
Using barbaric ways that slice and drill
At times executed through a small pill
The thought of it makes my blood chill
Yes I could be bestowed against ones will
An unwanted seed on the lands you till
Because of circumstances that do instill
Various hardships impossible to distill
Difficult situations for one to foot the bill
Even from the grave am left to wonder still
Am a human not something surreal
Even as a fetus means not am unreal
This debate should be a very big deal
This accursed demise is so very real
My extermination a gruesome ordeal
My right to live is not yours to steal
Or to throw away like a left over meal
I have no defense no voice to appeal
In this moral dilemma let me reveal
A conflict of truths too dire to conceal
The outcome begets many fates to seal
And eternal wounds that never ever heal
Horrors I face makes ones blood congeal
It can make the bravest of souls to squeal
This is not a case of being civil or uncivil
This is a choice between good and evil
Do not be deceived by lies of the devil
Don’t let his arguments drop an anvil
To crush sound wisdom like a weevil
And condemn yourself to mortal peril
So open your minds to spiritual council
Does no one care how I might feel?
Have hearts of men turned to steel?
No hands to roll humanities wheel?
Do I not matter in this cosmic creel?
Can’t my slaughter be brought to heel?
Doesn’t it make your conscious reel?
Is my existence meant for one to peel?
By Bernard Owor
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