A Whim

She had two options
And a whim

It was on a whim
That they were born
And just as much that

They stayed alive

They're the kind that hurt her
The kind that backed her into a corner
Giving her only two options

She resented their kind
The ones she carried within
Would be no exemption

To this hatred

Sonograms scribbled in red
A tally of how many she got rid of
A skewed ratio in her offspring

The screaming cries of a
Blood-drenched monster
Monsters she couldn't bring herself

To cull

It was a on a whim
That they were born at all
And more that they lived

She saw their kind everywhere
Loose and reckless like housecats
But without being endearing

She carried them
Living burdens to her existence
That needed to be punished

Especially

She had two options
And a whim

She'd make sure
They would pay a price
A price

For existing
For being one their kind
She had no choices

In how she conceived them
Much less whether she'd have conceived at all

She hated them
Each and every last one of their kind
For putting her in this position

She let them live, certainly,
But she'd amend this

She had two options and a whim
Her sons would have none

This is justice.