how differently would you treat me if you discovered i was the product of rape.
now tell me. should i really believe that i made an abortion escape.
i don’t know the seed that planted me. neither the soil. but, i was born.
i am living.
i am definitely
real.

was it a date? a one-night stand? curiousity. starts to thicken. a fling?
i don’t know. an experiment? with a boy and a girl – at fifteen years-old?
a king – and his mistress? was it Winnie Hollman – and Jack Nicholson?
maybe satan on hallow’s eve. it was october when i was conceived.

either which way.
i feel enriched to say. that we must obey. eliminating a baby isn’t only murder.
it’s crippling to the mother. it’s hardening to the heart. it’s parting from the start.
never being able to say hello. never seeing your star glow. oh man…

i don’t know.

i must have whispered inside the tunnels within.
it’s not the end.
end.
i’m not finished.
finished.
the echo made it’s way. it’s mark. a spark in the dark. the light. there’s never a right time
to say good bye. but when we know. we gotta go. and stray our own way.

just to make sense of this. whether we know what it is.
people do it all the time. people doing what’s right. why do we fight
the truth. a choice saved my life. i’m living proof.

i just want to stare at you. and compare you to. what i see in the mirror.
the fear would subside. so many questions arise. only one answer resides.
real is what you made me. my life is what you gave me.

all my gratitude. goes to you. thank you.