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Unnamed

I have never been told to hate the junkie on the street
To judge her value by her smell or filth or bare feet.
And if I could choose whether she should live or die,
The choice is clear, I would choose life.

As for the bigot full of malice and anger
I still have not been told to hate him either.
And if I could choose whether he should live or die,
The choice is clear; for him, I choose life.

Being so young, I have not been told to be enraged
At the killer living in his cage.
Though the jury, judge, and law think he should die,
The choice is clear; for him, I choose life.

And the mother who chooses: “a baby is too much”
For her reputation, comfort, career, and such.
Or the Doctor helping her deal with the strife,
I still don’t hate either; for them, I choose life.

Or preachers and politicians condemning all of the above
I don’t know how to hate them, my first instinct is love.
He shouts and distorts each circumstance, saying they deserve to disappear, be locked away, or die.
But if it were my choice, I would choose life.

The truth is, I hate no one, I’m too young and new.
I’ve not been told to hate, I wouldn’t know what to do.
I’m an unborn child with a head, heart, fingers, and veins
I can kick, I can fumble, I can play and sleep.
And with my ears, I can hear my mother weep
When the doctor says “You’ll be alright; no one, today, will be dying!”
It doesn’t help, 'cause she keeps crying.
It starts. I see light. I can feel the knife!
At this point, I may be the only one; but for me, I choose life.

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