Creation Poem by Victoria Annette Bailey

Lacey stares at the mannequin figure in white
His words crawl, like ants, to that pallid midnight.
He follows procedure to cleanse her of sin,
The terminate creation before it begins.
Diploma hung high, qualified to kill,
He slides over the contracts; a life and a bill.
Lacey's seed strangled by thorns, weeds and vines
As she signs, in crimson, her name on the line.
I lie here in darkness, loved and at home,
Unaware of her actions, I continue alone.
Nothing has harmed me, no history haunts,
I'm content with this highway but Lacey looks gaunt.
I feel her panic; her uniform breaths,
My consequential existence, drawn out as death.
The instruments pierce me, cut to no bone,
The harsh world engulfs me, as relieved, Lacey moans.
I stare round at the mannequin figure in white,
He feels no remorse and casts me aside.
Another dead client, his profit, Lacey's grief,
But he has the drugs to lullaby him to sleep.