Poem: Abortion

I was born
The other day
It was strange.
I didn’t have
A thing to say
Or anyone to blame.

I began
In a round
(Wrong around)
About way
Wet with stuff
From inside mum
And tear ducts.
I didn’t know
I didn’t think
No-one did,
‘Cept I came
With no hair
And went with
No sense.

I lived;
I live;
But if that’s all,
Is it enough?

Does one word
Follow another
Because it doesn’t
Know any better? like
A line of ants?
What if I
Got my hand
And stopped