Born out of a feeling of being cramped, the speaker in these few lines goes from one problem straight into its opposite. In the womb, there's no space left, so the speaker leaves. But the escape doesn't bring relief. Now there's "too much room," and that freedom feels like its own kind of trouble.
The poem works through sound and repetition. "Room," "womb," and "ran" keep echoing, so the lines feel like a nursery rhyme, neat and almost playful. That tidy surface makes the last line land harder. The mood turns from brisk and wry to quietly lonely.
Judging by the wording, the speaker is looking at birth, but the poem also suggests something wider: how growing up and gaining independence can leave a person exposed, with nothing close around them any more. The comfort of being held in, the poem hints, is easy to miss once it's gone.