I wrote this over 20 years ago & have had it published on a few poetry sites but I thought, considering the recent events with the butcher Gosnell, it needs to come out of retirement.
THROUGH A CHILD'S EYES
The month is one,and I’ve just begun,
So please take good care of me.
I’m beginning to grow in so many ways;
I wonder what I will be.
The month is two,
and my mommy is blue.
Because I was just a mistake;
Please don’t cry, Mom, it will be okay;
Be responsible for things God makes.
The month is three,
and quite possibly
I'll be looking just like you,
But I heard you say abortion;
Please tell me it’s not true.
The month is four,
the doctor closes the door;
I think I am going to die.
I don’t understand what is going on,
Mommy, please tell me why.
The month would be five,
but I am no longer alive,
And I think I now know why.
My mommy had sex before marriage,
And sentenced me to die.
The month would be six,
and I wish I could fix
The abortion my mom recently had.
She destroyed two very promising lives,
And now she feels terribly sad.
The month would be seven,
but I am now up in heaven;
There had to be another way.
There are mommys and daddys that couldn't have kids
Who would have cherished me each and every day.
The month would be eight,
but now it’s too late;
Your face now wears a frown.
But I wish you would have thought of me
Before you fooled around.
The month would be nine,
and things could have been fine,
But you chose to let me die.
So, now I have two things to say to you;
I will miss you and goodbye!
Today would have been my birthday,
If only I were not dead.
No parties, no cakes, and no presents -
I lie in a dumpster instead.
I will give you some advice, Mommy,
When you get tempted to play
Choose the greatest option
Next time do things God's way.