My partial birth abortion

Dearest child; please forgive my stone cold heart for having you callously dislodged from the comfort of my tummy limb by precious limb with a sharp wire coat hanger.  As a Pakistani streetwalker of ill-repute, my decision was fraught with controversy, and was not an easy one to make.  If it is of any consolation, I pray every day for you to return to my womb where we might reunite over a cup of hot tea.  It is poppy season here, and I wish you were here to enjoy it with me, staring at the horizon on into infinity.  You are my silent partner and eternal hope.  I do not expect forgiveness or understanding, only your undying deformed 1979 koala bear-like pinchy clutch.  If you were here now, I would hang a Bonne Bell giant lip gloss necklace around your thick neck, and an alligator-clasp with a leather strap and a blue feather from your frail and limpy baby head of hair, and pray that you stayed off the well-worn beaten path of all of the sad sacks that I have known only all too well.  Bless you, my forsaken child.  You make me proud with joy.