A voice for the Voiceless
"FETUS FINAGLE"
Just as I dreamed, as the registration reads,
blessed are you, my random gene doo-doo.
Test tube so alive, you're a giver of life
Nature despised, your a seven of lies.
Husband ideal; the syringe deceives,
A subnormal fruit which loses its roots.
He's the awe of his mother and cancer of firm principle.
From the score of blasphemy; Bablyon's now subliminal.
The impulse to be gods becomes an avidity,
the result!.....our intellect equals hypocrisy.
We can purchase a bonnet and purchase a soul,
We can mould our offspring like how we shape gold.
It's a boy!, It's a girl!... of the devil's voodoo.
Here's a toy!, Your'e a joy!...the apostate concludes.
salcatharticus@yahoo.com
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