Don’t talk to me about choice
You have nothing to say to me about choice
Until YOU have had a baby’s life ripped from your womb
You with your mantra – “my body, my choice”
Then why? Why aren’t more women standing up and saying it?
“I had an abortion and I’m glad of it!”
You don’t hear it because it doesn’t happen
We kill our babies because of your lies
And then are left in the shadows of shame and silence
Afraid and alone
Unable to speak of the horror
Of our choice
To hire an assassin
To kill our own child
“Stop crying, it’s too late now.”
An order! A lament…
How many mothers’ tears haunt you in your sleep?
How many mothers’ cries wake you up at night in a cold, hard sweat?
So don’t you dare talk to ME about choice
You don’t know shit about choice
You claim “my body, my choice”
And in your words
is the blood of my child
Of my grandchild
And of millions of others
You claim that you stand for women
Then why? Why are we crying in the shadows?
Why are we alone, afraid and ashamed?
Where are you after the killing is over?
My body, my choice
Then who? Who will cry for our babies?
Just me, alone, anonymous, ashamed but not silent.
