I was destined to come out of the womb...
Until your doctor-performed my abortion.
Then I was naught...
My entry was caught.
My life ended...
Our three blood-types-still blended.
I am no more...
Are you happy?
I am sore...
I am no more.
I am a successful abortion...
No feet-a miss-mashed, contortion.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
love this great job has a very good point to it