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By: Charles Aldux
2/27/2022
11:24 p.m. CST
The Child Not Meant To Be Born
Doctor! Doctor! It really is an emergency!
The child cannot exist!
I am saying this with utter urgency.
From the moment I was refused such bliss.
Such bliss from a meaningful kiss.
To the days of a life being comfort deprived.
To where I barely have enough money to get by.
It is a knot in the sinful genetics of mine.
Down to the roots where the sun daren’t shine.
Doctor! Doctor! It really is an emergency!
The child cannot cannot exist!
Of a life filled so lonely.
You wouldn’t understand,
But I would urge you to see.
That this child cannot exist!
Doctor! Doctor! It really is an emergency!
The child cannot exist!
There was never a mother.
Never was there a kiss.
There never was a woman.
That for me would ever miss.
Tossed away like a broken dish,
Into the rotten waters that went splish.
I urge you doctor, don’t do this.
Doctor! Doctor! It really is an emergency!
The child cannot exist!
The land outside is radiated.
Society is warlike.
And every woman I loved has treated me as if I was desecrated.
Or at least that’s how it’s portraited.
The child inside has no resemblance to its mother.
All self-resemblance is elevated.
When I would see the child,
I’d be filled with such self-hatred.
For if I were to look into its eyes.
No longer would I notice the mother.
I would see me.
And any joy would then be smothered.
Doctor! Doctor! It really is an emergency!
The child cannot exist!
The idea of if it would is constantly urking me.
The reminder of what it would become.
The simple idea would make my tears begin to run.
Everything I do and everything I was.
Would intoxicate me horribly.
Like an alcoholic buzz.
Damn those emotions that I wish there never was.
And damn these reminders.
I wish I could pull down the blinders.
Pull them over my eyes.
For every sunrise.
Is never a surprise.
And my child should never exist.
For I could never bare to see me in its life that would be forever dry.
The child would feel so lonely in the years that would come nigh.
No matter how much I try.
I will be lonely till I die.
As would the babe that would rest on my thigh.
So Doctor, I say doctor, until I cease to cry.
This baby cannot survive.
