THE ABORTIONIST.

Try as he could

He could not wash away the blood stains

His hands remained crimson red

He turned on the hot water.

He’d done it hundreds of times

This couldn’t be any different

Could it?

Bar after bar of soap lathering into the sink.

Was he hallucinating?

Tired and spent, he slid into his room

Surely, after a nap, it would all be gone

Must prepare for tomorrow.

The baby voices came through the night

Shrill, distinct, eerie

They laughed; their chatter hounding him

He clutched his sheets.

“What do you want?” He asked

They continued to haunt him

Waking up, his body drenched with sweat

A new day, he had a decision to make.

Out, damned spot! Out, I say! ~Lady Macbeth.

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2 Comments

  1. "…know one doctor who put her finger into the cervix to carry out a late abortion and felt the baby kick her. She froze".

    "Not surprisingly she never did another after that."

    That really got to me too.

    Anna :o]

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