#youngest
Eldest children hold the weight of the world, on their shoulders.
Middle children are ignored,
Left to fend for themselves.
Youngest children are always treated like,
Ignorant little kids.
But only children? They're spoiled rotten!!
The only child:
All the chores,
All the critique,
All the blame.
The loneliest child.
Dealing with the yelling alone.
Talking to themselves.
Always in the center of a violent game,
Of tug of war,
As the rope.
5d ago
May 29, 2026 at 5:46 AM UTC
If the older ones cry,
They get a hug.....
if i cried, i got a lecture.
I always appear strong,
even when I'm silently breaking inside.
They say,"you're the youngest, you should understand"
But who should understand me?
I wiped everyone's tears,
but mine were called weakness.
In being their strength,
I forgot how to ask for help
Jun 24, 2025
Jun 24, 2025 at 8:23 AM UTC
I have been patient with you and the rest of our race,
all I did was to play the role and have a taste.
Taste of being nice and good at times like this, how come
you're mad when it's you whose in fault.
"A little more, a little more, bare and hold it in"
a thing I say to myself when you're clearly guiltless.
You turn your words onto me when it's time to confess,
tell me! is it that hard to know what is 'oppressed'.
I held myself and my fist, even though I'll win.
well, clearly you know and knew it's not my thing.
that's why you limit me with everything.
I was just trying to be nice and you just ended me.
Remember, I'm Older.
Dec 8, 2020
Dec 8, 2020 at 1:21 PM UTC
There is something in his smile
maybe those tiny teeth
or just his pink lips
But he got me at Mom
with his tiny sweet voice
he was just months old
And I'm needing him daily
his tiny hand holding mine
telling me I love you
Can you believe me?
My son, my baby, my life
My everything, cutie pie
My tiny blessing.
Jan 30, 2020
Jan 30, 2020 at 9:28 PM UTC
I visited in the market
where the pain is selling.
I saw number of poets,
came to possess sufficiently
where displayed number of captivating pains.
Even though, my God,
I couldn't adopt
any pain fitting to me.
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 12:16 AM UTC
I shake awake in the sleep…
The invisible dialogues, unable
to distinguish from darkness
vexes me...
I have heard the sob of the horn bill of the freedom
throughout the half broken dreams…
you also may blame me like my mother
that it’s because not pray to God when I go to bed…
For how many ‘freedoms’
I've been kept decorated
in the living room?
the fishes in aquariums
are not the beauty kept in the glass pots
but freedom closed in the glass…
While the fishes argue that
the three quarter of the world has made for them,
looking towards the open canopy of freedom,
the love birds, quibble me from the cages
that what I caged is the word of ‘freedom’ itself.
Doubtlessly, creating Auschwitz cells in living rooms
how can I speak about the freedom?
Having exempted the birds towards canopy of indulgence
the fishes to the sea of the rights,
I went to fly in the freedom of sleep
forgetting to pray to God…
then, I know
the birds from the canopy of indulgence
and the fishes from the sea of the rights,
are praying God for the sake of me…
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC