17 & Pregnant

I have something to confess my friend you see.

There’s this child breathing inside of me.

She kicks with joy at the sound of Mickey Mouse.

Don’t underestimate the eldest of the house.

On snowy days you won’t find her at the club

-nah-

she’s indulging hot cocoa

cuddled up with her family watching Netflix on the sofa.

Dance parties in the living room with friends

over stumbling into dark bathrooms again and again.

My little girl smiles when the leaves transcend in autumn.

She doesn’t want attention.

She craves soft touches of love filled cotton.

She doesn’t idolize porcelain painted faces-

for she already knows pure happiness sprouts

where independence is the base.

After this nine year term-

everyone around me screams abort.

But how do I kill the baby I showered with all my love and support?

My due date is fast approaching and I’m not keen-

to grow up and suppress my childish ways when I turn 18.

Darling this isn’t Pokemon.

You can’t trade the parts of yourself you deem useless.

They are what elevated you to this level to begin with.

Maturity is when you balance responsibility without strangling your inner child.

That baby in your belly that’s your inner soul.

Break the shackles.

Let her run wild.