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Final Abortion

I am locked away in her flesh,
a womb of ending.
She brought me forth,
but not with intent.

I dare not call her Mommy.
Assassin is more suitable.
Her eyes are bleached.
I have her bleached eyes, I inherit these.

I encounter
the professionalism of his plastic gloves,
he pulls and cuts and replies,

“It is finished.”

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