No Place Like Womb

by William Morgan

 

I don’t want to be born.

I have been resisting. I’m late. My Mother is a news junkie. All I hear is gunfire, bombs, screams, despair. The world is full of war, pestilence, horror. Why would I want to leave this place that is warm, cozy, full of love? Sometimes, I feel woozy when Mother sneaks a drink, but, apart from that, it is wonderful here. But, I know I will have to leave.

But, I don’t want to.

My hands are tiny, limited, but, they do the job as I slowly wrap the umbilical cord around my neck.

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