“Why us? Why no normal boring ****?”
The miraculous odds that you were conceived
Were offset by the misfortune of love unfit.
A birth with much promise but ultimately deceived.
Left to fend for yourselves like moths and butterflies.

You, the unlucky ones, not cared for in your early years.
Your resilience fails to blossom like those lucky ones
Who know little of your chronology of pain
But still ask what you would do if you had a magic wand,
As if that will provide them with solutions to you, the problem.

Trust takes time and is quid pro quo.
You need lessons in trust and attachments
But this is something that most adults don’t know.
Instead, they humour you or treat you with kid gloves,
Meaning that your adolescence is a bitter surprise
When you’re no longer the person they can infantilise.