Unborn and Alive

We live in a world where political correctness is correct,

Where no one can offend,

Or else it is surely thus a sin.

Where it is right to believe everyone is right

If they have reasons of their own.

But we are flesh and blood

And flesh tears and blood spills.

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In your womb grows and forms the beginnings

Of a Man or a Woman.

Breathing.

Feeding.

You were once such a thing too, you know.

You were a body,

Growing in your own mother's womb.

He is a part of you, is you

In a sense that he was brought upon by you.

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"Never would I kill and take away a life,"

Or so you would claim,

But because of circumstance,

You consider killing the 'thing'

Growing and living and becoming within you.

Is that not a bit sad?

You, after all, risked such a thing.

You do not need intercourse to love and live, you know.

A surprising thing?

It shouldn't be.

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And if one or the other is to be lost,

I must ask you this:

If you were a hostage,

With a gunner and one other,

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With you to decide who is to die,

Would you choose yourself or that one other?

Choose to save your own heart, I apologize, but your heart is selfish.

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It is politically correct to say it is the mother's choice,

And I apologize for being wrong,

But it is abortion that is murder and sin and foolish and selfish,

And to think it aright is the thinking of a killer.

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