"I don't want children" I tell my grandmother.
I am eight.
Covered in a galaxy of red, blue and purple splotches
From Mother's recent derangement.
"You'll change your mind when you're older" she says.
"I don't want children" I tell my friends.
I used to marvel at my eleventh grade class,
where three had fallen pregnant.
Within a few months the class filled with the shrill cries,
of babies,
wailing for attention,
while their mothers ploded on with their interrupted teenhood.
My friends respond: "Why not?
They're so cute! How can you not see that?"
"I don't want children" I say to my professor.
Every time I ride the bus to university,
I'm assaulted,
with society's raw, open secrets:
a single mother of three.
She is in rags but her children are not.
She is trying her best.
"Life is pointless without children" my teacher retaliates.
"I don't want children" I say to a colleague.
It is the year 2028.
Half the world is dying from too much food,
the other half is starving from too little.
I am back from a cesspool somewhere in Africa.
I return to a familiar routine,
trying to forget the visions of skeletal children,
that still haunt my dreams.
"How can you be so heartless?" my colleague hisses.
The rumors follow me for weeks;
That I'm heartless,
A monster,
Barely a woman at all.
I overhear a male colleague saying:
"no kids for me, I want to enjoy life."
No one criticizes him.
I think; is it truly heartless?
To prevent more suffering in this miserable world?
No, it is merciful.
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Heartless
PoetryTrying my hand at poetry :) Please check out my short stories if you have the time.