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Mona Jun 2020
feelings are in me
i either talk to them or ignore them
but they never ******* leave
they never let me grieve

they pop up n try to deceive
i slap them but they seek revenge
i hold them accountable
but that inflames their tendency to avenge

either they are on maximum volume
or on zero, it's like a child in a womb
festers and seeks nutrients from within
as if i am their mother and a walking bin
Moomin Apr 2020
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I bring to you a sad affair
Someone who evokes such fury, yet one who faces deep despair

For this, the accused who faces death, or lives according to your decree
Who makes no statement with dying breath, yet silently invokes her plea    

What crimes are done by this lost soul, what evil deeds did she aspire?
And where the witness of her death toll, the evidence that guilt requires?

No crime recorded, no victim slain, no trace of ****** or robbery
No voice of condemnation raised, none here to force a guilty plea  

She has no wrongs in her short life, has no deceit within her soul
No hurt has she, nor human spite, no determined selfish goal  

But one accuser, here today, one joined in life and woven fate
This one though will have her say, and claim the life she helped create

This witness claims to suffer pain, and a prison, should the accused survive
That her life will ebb and be restrained, and sadness would always reside

For some accusers have been defiled, by monstrous beasts of lust and hate
Others young and so beguiled, are induced by charm, so participate  

Others spy disease and defect, and cry acts of mercy to prevent
They choose to extinguish and protect, rather than one day regret

And then are those alone who strive, who cannot toil with life's results
And so instead, they choose their lives, and cry for freedom do exult

But where in these stands the accused, silent and awaiting fate
Her breath and freedom she is refused, for all the reasons the witness states

Is she alive, does she have form, within her soft and warm abode?
Where her heart beats, and fingers form, and from miracles she is wove    

Was she not also one defiled, is she not young and helpless too?
Would malady she reject, and death instead would opt to choose?  

And would not her life loneliness cure, and make a future with great light?
And comfort one who gave her life, and join her purpose true and right

For the accused can offer more than this, should she be allowed today to  live
Has so much that she can share, so much love and joy to give

For in our world, where children die, through hate and fate and evil men
We cherish those we lost too soon, and yearn to see our child again  
But what of the accused today, what future do we her deny?
A nurse, a doctor or a friend, a mother of so many lives?

How sad the accuser, so resolute, yet desperate to belong
In a world where our rights are so absolute, that they obscure the wrongs

And what she gains through this sad act, she loses so much more
A legacy of love and hope, a daughter who will adore

And so good people of the jury, I ask that you reflect
Upon the life of this dear child, so amazing and perfect

For my client has committed no crime, no evil deed or word
Is blameless and so innocent, and would not have caused this hurt

I ask therefore for mercy true, that her life be now redeemed
That she might live, and love and learn, and so pursue her dreams
Poetress2 Apr 2019
She never wanted to be a Mom,
and now her life is nothing but wrong;
What will she tell everyone she knows,
maybe she'll wait until she shows?
The Fetus who slumbers in her Womb,
one day will be running out of room;
She must Abort this one in her,
for shame she simply can't endure.
She makes an appointment at the clinic,
know one must know, no one must see;
She arrives the next day, still so unaware,
that her Fetus is growing, lots of hair.
They lay her on a Hospital bed,
where soon the Fetus will be dead;
The Doctor inserts a clear, long tube,
where it wreaks havoc, within the Womb.
The baby moves away from it,
it feels like she has just been bit;
Upon her face, there is a scowl,
it's much too late to turn back now.
The hose clamps on to her very, small hand,
the Fetus can't cope, nor understand;
It pulls the hand right off the arm,
yet Mother thinks she did no harm.
Next it grabs onto her hip,
and her tiny leg begins to rip;
Emersed in pain, she pulls away,
she'll not live to see another day.
At last it latches onto her head,
the heartbeat stops, this child is dead;
She smiles, her reputation intact,
a conscience is one thing she lacks.
I watched a video on a live abortion.  It had such a sorrowful impact on me.  My prayer is that these words, while graphic, may save but one baby's life.
King Dec 2018
Legs spread, mind scattered
Organs decay, insides battered
The thought runs wild
“did it even ever matter?”

Blood pours, like wine
Ripe berries, already burst
“Childs joy was never mine"
Tears follow, a mother cursed

Blood fills the floor
Search begins for something more
Ripening fear begins to mild
Dire sorrow fills mothers core

Lifeless child, fresh of womb
A mistake, time has forgot
Too ripe, child now faces tomb
And a sorrow, mother lays distraught
Sindi Kay Oct 2018
With the moon glancing into my window
And a quilt hugging my body
The wind moaning
And whistling
I become a ghost
From one world
To another
into a
new womb
Ready to be again.

-Sindi K.

bakunawa Jun 2018
she kissed her knees
waiting for the wind
to take her slowly away.
             yet the hands of time
             were far too patient
         making her stay.
               she was in pain
    and way too
        and yet
she never wanted company
                 just the storm
                       and she
      doesn't deserve it:
                   neither the rainfall
                   nor this draught.
                         she kissed her knees
                                 and whispered
            out of new words to pray
                she barely even muttered
                                  "just take me today."
                       hands pressed tight together
     and lips trembling shut
                   kissing her
            wet and salted knees
       with her back against the wall
                facing a hard place
           a dead end
                    to a thousand feet freefall
     and rock bottom...
                to dust.
                       she kissed her knees
          with closed eyes
                   and an open wrist...
      waiting for her tears
      to slowly drown her----
              with one more
                   shattered bottle
           beside her
                      and one less
                            plea to say.
                 "just take me away."
      she kissed her knees
           and she hugged her legs.
                 all soaked in her own waste
  and her own faults
              she nods her head
      totally out of lies to
         chant herself asleep
                     until she gnawed herself
                         six feet deep.
                              she never became a
         failed adult
                   because life blew up
            in her face so suddenly
                            all she is
                                           is a shattered child
                     waiting for life
                             to spew her out.
                                          she kissed her knees...
whoop a little disturbing? sorry...
umm challenge by Sylph----- a little off the topic but still lol
Kate Dec 2017
Conceiving you felt like death.
Slowly drowning in despair.
The pressure rising to my head.

Only in my womb for a month,
Longing for a mother
That wasn’t actually there

I heard you crying in anguish
It mocked me continuously,
You felt contaminating.

I sank to the bottom,
Laying there, lungs filled, bursting in pain
A dark presence swept over me.

There are a million ways to bleed and
You were gutted out whole
No sea water but my own tears.

She took you from me.
Did I take you away from myself?  

Regret and
Paralyzed me
Based on a painting
Martin Narrod Nov 2017
Take my fetus and go
Through and through the mighty seas,
Cleft of stubborn knocks and the bayonets
Rocking through and through the eves. Whose pirouettes and epilepsy crooked, Asunder, blessing the attenuated biology of Say, a field mouse or the hummingbird. What nuisance it transcends itself into. How It has marred even the plight to lock oneself In that windowless box of time. The Atemporal box featuring those curious amaranthine engravings about its sides, upon its top. Though the blood may not spill from side to side, and while the nellypot may collywaddle, there is an immense sincerity akin, fused afore to the intimacy of an authenticated orphic boketto.
Äŧül Jul 2017
This earth is actually 1 nation,
It is 1 complex society.
My compatriots,
They don't desist from being real *****.
My countrymen,
They spit phlegm on any public road.
My landsmen,
They bias against the ladies apart from ****** them.
My fellow humans,
They break all of the traffic rules.
My own friends,
They have been so imperfect.
My friends are my world,
And I am not proud of this world.

I am an idealist who never had them,
The mythical permanent friends.

The human society is full of bigotry,
I read about female exploitation.
This awful male-dominated society,
I am amused on its insecurities.
That unlucky unborn female foetus,
I mourn its ****** before its birth.
My HP Poem #1637
©Atul Kaushal
Hasan Aspahani Jul 2017
LIGHT, dreary light, on a plaza, surrounded by
unexpectedly hopeless hope. And you, stubborn man.

This plaza is a placenta. And we are
the fetus that can never get out of
there. The maturity of pregnancy, and we
are not ever dare to actually be born.

If our mother dies, dry the umbilical cord.
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