People stare at me
as I walk by.
Mothers walk past me
and can't help but sigh.

It's noticeable now,
I'm two months along.
Being pregnant at fourteen
really is wrong.

I get looks of sympathy,
and hateful glares.
I get told to get an abortion,
and I get disgusted stares.

It wasn't my fault,
I'm not a whore.
I didn't ask my brother
to give me more.

But I get called a whore,
a bitch, and a slut.
When in reality,
I'm anything but.

I was raped,
so I'm not to blame.
It's my brother who turned
raping me into his game.

So glare at me.
If only you knew.
You judge me
when you have no clue.

If you knew,
maybe you'd care.
Maybe you'd know
that I'm treated unfair.

It isn't my fault,
I promise it's not.
I tried to make him stop,
I screamed and I fought.

But now I'm fourteen,
and two months along.
Being pregnant
is wrong.

But don't judge
when you don't know.
Maybe you'd understand
if you knew I had no place to go.

Hell, maybe I am
a whore or a skank.
So what.
Make me walk the goddamn plank.

But it isn't your right to judge.
I was raped by my own fucking brother,
disowned by my father,
and abandoned by my mother.

Being pregnant isn't my fault,
no matter what you say.
I just need to live through this
day by fucking day.