Jim Arnold
How many babes must die?
How many babies need to die, till their bludgeoned corpses catch our eye?
How many babes shall be ripped apart, before the slightest tug upon our hearts?
How many screams will go unheard, before we utter a single word?
How many skulls shall we crush like dreams, till we decide that “wrong” it seems?
It’s true that life is never fair, but how many must die before we care?
How many bad choices must be made, before child murder is forbade?
Rhetorical question that one was, sixty-million dead babies was not enough.
If it’s OK to kill babies…
If it’s OK to kill babies, then maybe it’s true, it’s OK to kill me; it’s OK to kill you.
We did it to blacks when slaves were in season; they did it to Jews in the Nazi tradition.
Cherokee, Sioux; plenty more tribes we slew, we did it to them, we can do it to you.
Slavs, and Poles, and Latvians too, we did it to them, we can do it to you.
Chinese, Vietnamese, Cambodians too, we did it to them, we can do it to you.
This child can’t you see is a product of rape, a miserable life he cannot escape.
This child in the womb surely won’t grow up healthy; this child of the hood has no chance to be wealthy.
This child with bad genes has no chance to succeed; his parent’s gene pool was bad, they have no right to breed.
You’re too big, you’re too small; you’re too short you’re too tall.
You’re too skinny you’re too fat, you’re all wrong and that’s that.
If it’s OK to kill babies, then maybe it’s true, it’s OK to kill me; it’s OK to kill you.
If you won’t fight for them, then who’ll fight for you? Who will say you have value, when your life is through?
And so ended life on the third rock from the sun. Those deemed worthy of living it turned out were none.
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