Clinic

Okay guys this is my first crack at poetry. Do not be alarmed at my mental state, but I am really mad at a piece of legislation and the closing down of crisis clinics in my area. Here it is "Clinic":

I am cut open like a trout
Feast upon the entrails
Consume the bloody mass

Picking the lillies by the day
War became an open day
Sometimes I believe in god

Sometimes not

Willow, willow
I was eviscerated by the tree
They feast upon my lillies

They gut me like a trout
I watch as they slowly let me die
I watch as the monsters eat my entrails

Sometimes I believe in god
Mostly not

There is a knight who should save me
Sometimes a fairy comes my way
Both do not cut off my head,
But leave the scourge to eat my entrails

There is war
I pick lillies as the soldiers go by
No coat hangers to rid the baby inside

They gut me like a trout
Entrails soaking the lillies
The unwanted child allowed to die
Sometimes I believe in god

Forever not