It's not working Paula hates,
It's her colleagues her supposed mates,
Who gather round the water cooler,
Pregnancy at 18 her choice,
***** *******.

Rip it out of her
And show her it
All ripped and wrong

Never mind darling

Never mind

There is always next time.

I'll never understand how they live with themselves.
They condemn death only when it suits them.
They judge those who speak their minds
While embracing a nation of child-killers.

I'll never understand how they live with themselves.
Sleep must be hard to come by when you
Endorse the murders of millions of children
With no more thought than a gardener pruning a pesky ****.

I'll never understand how they live with themselves.
They extinguish the fragile flames of would-be daughters and sons
And explain that this heinous crime is
Not only acceptable, but essential.

I'll never understand how they live with themselves.
It must be nearly impossible to stand up straight
When the burden of innocent lives swings from your shoulders.
Death is so heavy, even if the souls are small.

That boy on the street is running away
He has a family waiting at home
You pull over the car on the highway
And talk to him, saying he cannot roam.

Mercy is telling him to stop running
Reminding him of his friends back in town
Those kids in school he'll never stop missing
His sister will cry if he's not around.

You introduce him to a simple prayer
One that shows him forgiveness at not cost
You say running away gets you nowhere
You've tried it before and only got lost.

Compelled to help the boy on the street
He happily goes home, not in defeat.

This world is corrupt
Children murdered everyday
it's time we end it

mackelmore got it focused, and eminem did too,
if hip hop can have a tolerance, then why can't you?
you say you're against abortion, but what if your child turned out gay?
would you change your story? or would you try to drug the love away?
pro-life's is what you preach but against gay marriage from a book's depiction?
no wonder we are lost, when we think in contradiction...
this isn't only a hit to Christianity, it's aimed towards religion, insanity comes to definition when a book make your decisions.
we try to preach peace, but peace still hides, when every hateful slur comes with a demon surprise.
so many wars over **** like this,
when we should all stand up and fight against it.
some say it's on oil, but see the bigger picture,
internal wars fueled by hatred written in scripture.
the essence of the soul is trapped within a cast,
maybe we are already in hell but our soul stands center mass,
trying to escape with reason by which you just ignore,
when you speak without though or a pulse within your core.
why does it matter if someone has a lover of the same ***?
just because you were raised that way, you have to continue this hex?
ink written on paper, by the hands of man,
over thousands of years, translated again and again.
but you're so set in stone on what you believe,
that if Jesus himself appeared and proved you wrong, he would get the third degree.
set you human thoughts aside for the sake of humanity,
and fill your heart will love, respect, and a sense of humility.
I'm not anti-Christian, pro-life, or pro-choice.
but I am pro-Humanity, Pro-change, and pro-voice.

I am the pinnacle of controversy
Some say ******-my middle name
And still to others I represent freedom,
I am the pointed pentagram of blame.

Almost mothers spread cold-feet
Where I scrape and claw/vacuum aspirate eat.
From open, porous, space-between-legs
My Gnashing teeth-grind out the would be meat.
I am the noise that is never forgotten
Detaching zygotes from walls of womb
I am the reality of ****** indiscretion- the tomb

I do my job- do I play  “God” ?
For the “******” behind doors
Carrying secrets & dreams of more
They leave one less-plus future full-term
slide up their stockings & hope not to return

I’m the last to see the mothers-to-be
Before they change- rearranged
I see geometrically: each.separate.part:
Chalk eyes never wet just hurt
Lips-lined straight with shame
chins that never wobble- 50/50 tipped to pray
& feet with nowhere to fall, they walk away

I am the pin-cushion point of pain
To what the picketing protesters agenda is aimed
I am where pro-life and pro-choice meet
The executioner of straight to heavens unborn elite
I am the buzzing abortion machine.

It was the abortion or new tattoo
so I smiled when I said this is what I want when I gave the artist a picture of you

Is it so hard to understand
Contemplate
Or begin to wrap your mind around the fact
That a person
Such as myself
Can be a christian
But gay.
Can be pro-marriage
But also pro-life.
Can want guns,
But also want to marry a girl.
My beliefs.
Don't tell me what I can and cannot believe
Or do
Simply because it doesn't fit into a mold
That you have stereotyped
For that group of people.

Little Bird
Written by Adam M. Snow

Does the little bird not
know sorrow?
It drifts alone in the open air,
untouched by either
blue of the ocean
or the sky above.
Untouched by the bloodshed stains
of the earth below.
Does the little bird not
know sorrow?
Like the tears
of unborn children,
dead before birth with
their question burning
forever, "Why?"
Does the little bird not
know sorrow?
Perched on a tree,
watching man fall
before its eyes.
Is there no compassion
from that little bird
towards humanity?
Does the little bird not
feel sorrow?
Like the tears
of millions of hungry children,
cold without a home.
Their voice muted,
by the wars of greed;
their deaths in vain,
blood on our hands.
Does the little bird not
know sorrow, like we do?
Unable to fly
so freely like the bird,
lost in our own way
of life;
the endless greed,
the pointless bloodshed,
millions of lies.
Does the little bird not
know sorrow?
Always flying so freely,
freedom on its wings.
Untouched by either
blue of the ocean
or the sky above.
Untouched by the bloodshed stains
of the earth below.
Does it feel sorrow?
That little bird,
who greets the morning
with a song,
always cheerful,
always chirping.
What does the little bird feel?
Is it sorrow?