Is it just to take a life, just because it is convenient to do so? Even if it is legal, there are still unseen and unknown consequences, for ever action, there is an equal or opposite reaction.

 The stains upon my soul

show forth too black and grievous to behold

They, like open wounds, ooze their poisons

Turning my hardened spirit cold

Taking away all joy that may come my way.

Oh the sorrow, the guilt and all the pain

Remains fresh in my mind still today,

Whilst,

Remembering still, that very first stain.

Twas A choice I made long ago,

To abort a child, to kill a living soul..

Oh I remember so well,

How I began this mind trip to hell.

I shouted aloud.  I did proclaim,

"It's my child!  My Body! I am justified!"

All the same.

Alas, the

First wretched stain to blemish my soul.

~O~

Yeah though,

Now that I am old and gray

There's not a day goes by

That the recollection of my unborn child

Fails not to reach out to me and ask why?

For the memory,

 coldly grasp me in its clutches of horror

As I  tremble, shake and cry.

I think in torment of its tiny small life

How its only crime was mine.

A precious life I stole in my own selfish act

A life that never lived.  A life that never loved.

Cast to eternity's shore

By a butcher with rubber gloves.

~O~

'Twas almost thirty years ago to the day

That the blacking of my soul

Started taking place.

For to this child

I never said, "I love you"

I never said, "I care"

I lived only for myself

And in my heart,

 no one else dwelt there.

 Now old am I, and soon to fade away

My days are consumed in shadows and

I see nothing but blackness

As my soul maintains

Its vile and putrid stains.

    J. Allen Wilson © 2003