Incubator- by Susan Thomas

It wasn't her fault.
It wasn't planned.
An atrocious crime...
planted a seed,
that would slowly grow.

Already ripe with despair.
Overcome with shame,
she begins to weigh her options.
The thing inside...
is a reminder of her shame.
She wants it gone.
She wants to rip it from her.

She kept silent,
as long as possible.
Terrified of the procedure,
she seeks a comforting hand.
She tells those closest to heart.
Shaking with fear.
Shaking with shame.

Those she loves forget...
forget she has feelings.
She's nothing but an incubator now.
They don't offer what she needs.

They condemn her.
Blame her.
Call her monster.
Call her murderer.
She's going to burn in hell.

Inside the last bit of her,
that survived the evil...
shatters.
She takes back her words.
Paints a smile on her face.

Carrying the unborn seed.
Each passing moment.
Each passing day.
Each passing month.
Darkness grows.
Sanity fades.

No healing can commence,
with a swollen stomach,
to remind her of...
her shame,
her despair,
her growing hate.

She hates herself.
She hates what's inside.
She hates the world.
Her hate grows strong.

Overwhelmed with shame,
despair,
and hate.
Seeing no way out.
No light at the end of the tunnel.
She takes a gun.
Two shots ring out.
A hole in the stomach.
A hole in the head.

She lay dead.
The unborn seed never to see day.
All she needed,
was a loving hand.
All she needed,
was support.

She received none.
She received judgement,
and cruelty.
Now a life is gone,
and no one cares.