I stepped in on a shocking scene.
I stepped in with my gun.
Back then, I was the Island queen,
The boss, the number one.
I meant to rescue Richard, though
He greeted me with scorn
When I took aim and shot my son
Before he had been born.

I watched his fingers fleetly play
The music he adored.
I made him cast his dreams away;
It pierced me like a sword.
But still, I set him on his path,
Although my heart was torn,
In hopes I wouldn’t shoot my son
Before he had been born.

He grew into a physicist
With such a brilliant mind.
I thought, “If only I had missed!”
He was so sweet and kind.
And still he seemed a shattered man,
So frazzled and forlorn,
Yet unaware I’d shot him dead
Before he had been born.

“Whatever happened, happened” was
His often-heard refrain.
I hope that he was wrong because
If not, I strove in vain.
I pray he’ll somehow change the past
So I’ll no longer mourn
That in coldest blood, I shot my son
Before he had been born.