Anger
(c) 2011 by Oana
For years now my unborn son has followed me
I don’t need to see him
I know he is there
He just shows up
Been trying to explain to myself and to him certain things
He never wants to listen
He covers his ears
He ignores me
He follows me in the most unexpected places
Hugging my pillows, hiding behind me when I go on dates
Dismissing all men as unfit and stupid
“Look at this one,”
“He looks like Death, how can you like him?”
My son cries
“You can do much better than this”
My baby won’t stop crying
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