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First-Born, Second-Best

Sent off to school and warmly dressed,

They said they loved him but they lied.

He was first-born, but second-best;

A sister came, pushed him aside.

 

He tried his best, worked very hard,

They never noticed what he did;

Became reclusive, quiet, scarred,

They never sought him when he hid.

 

He was a sad and lonely boy,

While she had laughter in her life;

He watched her friends, her smiles and joy,

That happiness cut like a knife.

 

So in his solitude he planned,

And when he did the things he did,

They said they couldn’t understand,

‘Cause he was such a quiet kid.

 

They asked him why he’d been so bad,

To instigate such infamy;

I did it for my Mum and Dad,

So maybe now they can see me. 

🌷(4)

◄ Pi

Trump ►

Comments

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M.C. Newberry

Sun 30th Sep 2018 15:52

The "infamy" can be imagined in the context of these lines.
A warning to treat all offspring with the care and attention
they deserve. Having said that, I was the youngest surviving offspring of six and was not especially aware of
being sidelined in favour of other siblings. But maybe
some children are more demanding (needy?) than others
and can see themselves less favourably treated...with
occasional dire results.

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keith jeffries

Sun 30th Sep 2018 12:11

Trevor,

This well crafted poem brings to light a dilema found in many families including my own where favouritism became destructive in the growth of those siblings who were ignored. Parents should take heed of your words and learn to treat all their offsprings equally with love and equal opportunities. Well said and thank you.
Keith

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