birdcage for my fetus

sing to my aborted fetus in a birdcage above my bed
I talk to my fetus when I dream about the dead
the day that I had the procedure
the coffee tasted like shit
i poured a cup anyways and dressed myself up as a gimp
It took a while to get to the clinic, it was only eighteen feet away
The fetus inside my belly wasn’t moving it hadn’t been moving all day

The doctor was a Nazi, I had expected
the nurse was half fairy I knew
They gave a me a wig and a half dead pig
that I ate with a packet of glue