Murderer

1 Comments

Murderer

It was that one party, that one dance.

Your one mistake, your stolen chance.

 

You look at him and he smiles at you.

You smile back and he takes his cue. 

 

He’s a little too high and you’ve been drinking.

By your choices clearly you weren’t thinking.

 

You’re moving too fast, you thought it’d be fun.

Unfortunately for you this is not done. 

 

Inside of you a baby grows.

What will you do, what if he knows?

 

Your parents you know, you must tell,

You’d rather stand at the gates of hell.

 

The baby you don’t want to keep,

It’s your fault the consequences are steep. 

 

You sit on your bed, so scared to wait,

Knowing that much longer it would be too late.

 

“The Doctor will see you now”

Says the old nurse with a scowl. 

 

Three terrifying long months it has been.

You walk in and the Doctor looks grim. 

 

You lay down on the hard table,

Trying to remember that fable. 

 

You wonder was it a boy or a girl.

Your stomach upset with the morning twirl.

 

You know your baby is crying.

Because your baby knows it is dieing.  

 

You cry out from unbearable pain.

The feeling of love you will never gain. 

 

Your baby would have been a boy,

He would have taken his first breath with joy. 

 

You walk out with hot tears in your eyes,

Knowing you would never hear your baby’s cries. 

 

You’ve grown up since that one mistake,

Every night your heart no longer breaks.

 

BUT…

 

When you look in the mirror and see a young lady,

Don’t forget, you could have been that baby. 


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Lioness4life commented on Murderer

09-16-2009

omg! this poem u wrote had me crying! deep stuff! i went thru that and it tooke me back to me lying in the same position thinking the same things. thanks 4 that. it really did something to me. if u ever want to talk let me know. oh and i think u and ur husband are the cutest couple. Good luck and God bless!

oodles

09/16/2009

im sorry you cried :( but its always good to hear that my poem was moving :) thanx for the compliment!

Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

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