In about three months you'll start to show.
People will start to whisper, the look on your daddy's face alone
Is reason enough to get rid of this poor burden.
Snip it clean, baby, don't you put that evil on me.
I mean, it can't feel it, right? It won't even know it, right?
So how can it even be considered a life, right?
Well lemme ask you somethin, sister, if this little fetus
Didn't grow into a man, you and I would not be talkin bout
What we're talkin bout right now.
So come on, baby, give the boy a chance!
I've heard foster care's a bitch, but then again, so's dyin.
And some of the most beautiful things in life are accidents.
Think about all the times you guessed on a test and got the answer right.
Or made a wrong turn and ended up somewhere better.
Or didn't make it to a party that the po-po crashed.
Or accidentally fell in love.
Or accidentally got knocked up.
Or accidentally given birth to a man who'd be a teacher
And save the lives of students who had all but given up.
Or a man who'd be a doctor and say no to abortions because
If that was the answer he wouldn't be standin there.
And I know that you're thinkin I couldn't possibly understand.
How can I stand here and lecture you, when I'm a man?
Well I tell you right now, honey, if it were even medically probable
I would take that baby from you right now and put it inside me and carry it.
Because if you're even thinkin about killin this poor child,
You don't deserve it in the first place.
You can't figure out how to use a condom,
You think you're smart enough to play God?
I know a man who was adopted, his mom partied a little to hard
On a spring break when she was 15, and got a little more than she bargained for.
He grew up to be my youth pastor when I was in junior high.
Right around the time when I was thinkin bout ending my life.
And because of him, I chose different.
And I know many other kids who could say the same thing.
So if that 15 year old spring-breakin teen had made that simple snip,
Think of all the silence that she would have to deal with.
The silence of all the sermons that her son woulda never spoke.
The silence of this poem that I woulda never wrote.
So come on, sister, give the boy a chance.
that made me cry.
ReplyDeletenicely done.