As falling rain is the tears of God for the blood spilled of the unborn
children that covers the hands of the human race. I have seen God cry when
rocking little babies in His big loving arms. As a strong earthquake, His
fingers tremble when caressing the faces of the planted seed destroyed before it
had a chance to grow roots. Right to choose it's called; what a strange symphony
of empty words before Him the truth is always known. Right to choose it's
called, but before God's eyes is right to commit murder. The drops of blood are
still falling today staining the cold steel of the doctors' tables. The silent
scream of those without voice covers the entire earth and the tiny hands of them
without choice reaches out to those who have closed eyes to their plea. Please
give me a chance to prove you right. Let me take a breath of fresh air, let me
bring a smile to your face, let me give you a reason to live, allow me to be the
hope of your aging years. Please give me a chance, let me draw a picture of you,
let me play with your hair, let me cover your cheeks with my kisses; allow me to
paint butterflies on the sky of your world. Please give me a chance, let me
bring you my report card, let me introduce you to my bride, let me show you your
grandchild; allow me to be God's gift to you. Please give me a chance, don't
discard me as a mistake, don't throw me away as a defective toy, don't put me to
sleep before I am awake, don't toss me out as a dirty rag, please, mom, give me
a chance.
Your unborn child Mario