I walked into Walmart,
All eyes were watching me.
The mothers grabbed their little ones,
Hoping they wouldn't see.

They'd stare at my enormous belly,
And shake their heads in shame.
   Instantly judging me,
No love, just blame.

I was there for my vitamins,
I wanted her to be healthy,
I was determined to be a good mother,
Though I was never very wealthy.

When I was six months along,
Three boys came up behind me.
They pushed me onto the ground,
And kicked until they'd killed my baby.

Their identities were never known,
And they got away with it.
My "mistake" was too much for them,
They thought I was unfit.

I would have been a **** good mom. . . .
But they chose me to harm.
Because of their hateful decision,
I'll never get to hold her in my arms.

In the meanings of my many tears,
the memories wander.

I sat by myself
In that corner booth
Until you looked my way.

And when you did,
Somehow, I'd lost the courage
To say what I'd come to say.

I wanted you back
In my embrace,
I wanted to be in your arms.

I wanted you to hold
And protect me, to calm me
When I'm alarmed.

You approached me,
With a sinister face. . .
(A face unfamiliar to me)

You made it clear that
I was, in fact, the last person
That you wanted to see.

When you uttered those words,
I'd not a clue as to
What to say to you.

I grabbed my purse,
Stood up and thought,
*"Our parting was way over-due."

I watched you play that violin;
your forehead wrinkled with frustration
as your fingers fumbled
with each bumble . . .
but I thought it was beautiful.
You have yet to play for long,
but you're really doing well!
I say these things, to your deaf ears,
for you refuse to hear
that your playing is beautiful.
Your determination spoke wonders
of your motivations.
You'd never give up,
even if it was rough.
P.S.) I think you're beautiful.

Those stiletto heels click-clack on the floor,
In your appearance, you clearly invest.
That model sized body swanks through the office,
With that push-up showcasing your *******.

Your eyes light up as you parade around the office
And the men try not to stare.
You wink and smile as you pass them by,
Catching the light in your hair.

Your goal is to have the attention,
Of everyone, every day.
How will you do this? Simple!  
You allow those hips to sway.