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Fifth Born

entry picture

Strong in my foetal memory,

Lies knowledge of distress.

Of wrinkled, horrid, prune like home,

Where others took the best.

 

From puny, feeble blood supply,

Umbilically, I starved.

In dried up shrivelled carapace,

My small new life was carved.

 

Within that worn and wrinkled home,

I'm sure my feet'll kick it through.

I muse upon fragility,

And wonder at my birth anew.

 

Siblings stole the freshness that,

I should have had for me.

Birth's feat'll be a burden such,

As none should have to see.

 

My dad would not have taken,

Second hand tattoos.

But then he chose to impregnate,

A womb that's four times used.

 

They conspired to create me,

In a place unfit for one.

Bound to befeat allegiance,

Between parents and their son.



◄ Farmer

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