CRCC the Loser• Show poetry

I write of how I feel If Im mad then the poem is angry i write the poem because it is better than punchin stuff. My dad died on July 4 2006 and that is when I began writing poetry befor than I never could.

Roses R Red
Violets R Blue
I am a Loser
Who is called Coo






ABORTION IS WRONG *Bold*

Month One

Mommy, I am only 8 inches long, but I have all my organs. I love the sound of
your voice. Every time I hear it, I wave my arms and legs. The sound of your
heart beat is my favorite lullaby.

Month Two

Mommy, today I learned how to suck my thumb. If you could see me, you could
definitely tell that I am a baby. I'm not big enough to survive outside my home
though. It is so nice and warm in here.

Month Three

You know what Mommy, I'm a girl !! I hope that makes you happy. I always want
you to be happy. I don't like it when you cry. You sound so sad. It makes me sad
too, and I cry with you even though you can't hear me.

Month Four

Mommy, my hair is starting to grow. It is very short and fine, but I will have a
lot of it. I spend a lot of my time exercising. I can turn my head and curl my
fingers and toes, and stretch my arms and legs. I am becoming quite good at it
too.

Month Five

You went to the doctor today. Mommy, he lied to you. He said that I'm not a
baby. I am a baby Mommy, your baby. I think and feel. Mommy, what's abortion?

Month Six

I can hear that doctor again. I don't like him. He seems cold and heartless.
Something is intruding my home. The doctor called it a needle. Mommy what is it?
It burns! Please make him stop! I can't get away from it! Mommy!! HELP me!! No .
. .

Month Seven

Mommy, I am okay. I am in Jesus's arms. he is holding me. He told me about abortion. Why didn't you want me Mommy?

Every Abortion Is Just . . .
One more heart that was stopped. Two more eyes that will never
see. Two more hands that will never touch. Two more legs that will never
run. One more mouth that will never speak.
paste on your page if you agree