Everytime someone says, “It's a personal preference,”
All I can think about is my philosophy professor's
Posited query about a mother watching a train
Streak towards her children. The mother has a lever
To divert the locomotive into a ravine
And she knows it's the only way to save them
And he says, “It just comes down to preference”
As if one would prefer to hear two clipped-off shrieks
Echoing in your head forever
Over the sound of a hundred strangers' ghosts
Whispering above your children's beds.
Sir, I prefer choices that don't end in
Different flavors of guilt.