on fridays, i hate pro-lifers.

this week began with a shocking death,
in the kansan prairies of crystal meth.

there on the middle-american plain
the good doctor tiller was terribly slain.

his killer, scott roeder, forgot his meds,
but it wasn't just that he's a crazyhead.

roeder, you see, was a right-to-lifer,
who thought of tiller as a baby-knifer.

in his disturbed mind, tiller should die--
but he hadn't a rational reason why.

so he went to the church, a sacred place,
and he waved his gun in the congregation's face.

as people readied for the day's benediction,
shots burst from the man with a right-wing affliction.

i know you think this poem's not funny,
and that i usually rhyme on topics more sunny,

but the whole event disturbed me to the core.
tiller practiced humanity, my heart implores.

the doctor practiced within the law--
saved women's lives & rights, wasn't one to withdraw

from the constant struggle over roe v wade,
and the progress the pro-choice movement has made.

i cannot understand the minds of the right
who think violence is an option in their fight.