The whole family had been cursed since they had me.
No, you see
I was the first born of a family of workers
who had never known a baby like me.
I didn’t work at all.
I didn’t sleep, I didn’t eat it, and I didn’t cry.
All babies cry, surely? But not I.
When I was older, I grew
but my skin developed rings and circles
that still to this day appear and grow into an awkward kaleidoscope
I have to explain at the dinner table.
When I was older, I never got the rules until I was told
nor understood that I’d been sold
unto lies about meritocracy
that awaited the brave
alas not the sick who can’t be saved -
No, my family was cursed
because they love but can’t understand a child
who says words they’ve never known
as they themselves work too much to the bone
unpaid, overworked, no pension,
don’t complain, don’t moan.
Then came a strange child who dove into books while too ill to leave bed
going through months with nothing said.
I ended up the wrong kind of sick,
or is it the right kind.
As I desperately write
and try
and fight for
another view, an alternative of mind.
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I wrote this during Brian Lou's stream with the first line prompt 'The whole family had been cursed since...'