Kamran Minder

A Child's Soul

I write to express, not impress.If you think I'm talking about you in any of my poetry, I probably am.






Am I living? Or am I existing? What if I'm not doing either? I often wonder if I'm just a baby dreaming about what my future life is gonna be like. Considering I don't remember most of my childhood, this would sort of make sense. Maybe my childhood hasn't started yet. Maybe I don't exist yet. Maybe I was aborted and Death is taking me around showing what could have been. Or Death could be showing my mother what I would have been like if she hadn't decided to get an abortion. If this is the case, I wonder what she's thinking. Does she regret her decision? Is she joyous with her decision? I hope she's happy with her desicion, figuratively speaking, because if not, she will be filled with remourse, pain and regret for the rest of her life. And if she did abort me, I'm sure she had a good reason. If so, what was the reason? Was she too young? Was she broke? Did she have a support system? I don't think I would want to know, if this was the case. But, maybe I would want to know so I wouldn't spend eternity hating her for ruining my chance at life.

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