A pulse undeveloped
A structure unmade
Cut off before life
When a Doctor was paid.
A killer, a murderer
Being yelled from outside
That child had no choice,
Now this child has died.
A young woman scared
Steps outside the door
Don't you judge me,
I'm young and I'm poor.
Why should I bring up a child
On the streets of this town?
Go home to your houses,
I'll go home to the sound,
The sound of the subway
As I sleep on the bench
Covered in newspapers
And holding a wrench.
I live every day scared and alone
I'll be reaped once again
I wish I could care for a child
Let alone take on in
But what kind of life is trying
To stay alive day by day
Without food or water
And any weeks pay.
Call me a murderer
For not wanting this child to suffer
Not allowing it life
Was a decision much tougher.
