An Accident

Down the street, past the mall, on the corner, near the gutter
An infant is ill in the sin of her mother.
You know her well. She’s burned in your stare.
You neglected her and all the burdens she bears.

An accident of an age old profession,
That’s taught the practitioner a cruel lesson,
When you’re starving, rotting, dying, dealing, stealing and breeding in need,
It doesn’t get easier with two mouths to feed.

As for the father, why bother? He’s a trucker far away,
And has no idea of his daughter sent to slaughter to this day.
And if he had, what difference would it make?
He’s running late and the kid is just some whore’s mistake.

Is there some flickering glimmer of hope for the girl?
It’s doubtful. Mom doesn’t want her, Dad doesn’t know her,
And no one even noticed
That a moment ago, she was consumed by her whoa.
The child just sucked her last breath.

I’m not your conscience.
I’m the angel of death.