Elijah Kampsen

Correcting: Distortion

Blown out of proportion is this subject of abortion,
the contorting of a woman's rights to fight or fight back
against the lack of understanding, a direct result of the sympathy withholding,
emboldening the politics of – who gives a sh*t?
Bit by bit they tear away at constitutional promises,
incomprehensible rambles ease the nation into dramatization.
Realization: what if we take a step back, hold our breath?
Discern the importance of a government lacking intervention,
the pronouncement is hard enough as is.
“Tough luck” they say while the dividends we pay.
Such heartache and heartbreak, the mistake that will a life take.
Misunderstood: it's not as if I wanted this –
the selfishness, implied, it's sick.
Or not implied if that suits you, outspoken attack the broken
lives torn apart, too late for a wish.
A prayer perhaps, a time lapse
back to a day when things were simpler, and the pressure was minimal
and misfortunes weren't terminal, and rape was preventable?
Who am I kidding, what has changed that's taken my private privileges away?
I ask that you walk a mile in my shoes, it's harder than you think,
when decisions are life-threatening, and souls are at stake.
This wasn't a back-up plan if precautions didn't take,
this is a life-or-death decision, and one that's mine to make.

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