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First Born

A Poem

By Atomic HistorianPublished 3 months ago Updated 2 months ago 1 min read
6
First Born
Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash

I am the first born

I’m worn out and scorned out

Bearing the weight of all expectations

The weight of a family on my shoulders

The world looks different when you’re born on the top

Well maybe not the tippy top

But a top of sorts

Experiencing it all first is both a pleasure and a curse

You have all the questions

But little help

Everyone thinks you always “know better”

But don’t always do

Sometimes you do

But you just don’t want to

And the things you didn’t

Well, they can haunt you

Some of the things you always wanted

Are later flaunted by those younger

As your parents grow up

Into the parents you always wanted

Thank you for reading my work. If you enjoyed this story, there’s more below. Please hit the like and subscribe button, you can follow me on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram @AtomicHistorian. To help me create more content, leave a tip or become a pledged subscriber. I also make stickers, t-shirts, etc here.

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About the Creator

Atomic Historian

Heavily irradiated historian developing my writing career. You can follow me on Facebook, Twitter, & Instagram. To help me create more content, leave a tip or become a pledged subscriber. I also make stickers, t-shirts, etc here.

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  1. Compelling and original writing

    Creative use of language & vocab

  2. Easy to read and follow

    Well-structured & engaging content

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    Niche topic & fresh perspectives

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    Zero grammar & spelling mistakes

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Comments (5)

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  • Grz Colm2 months ago

    Nice work Atomic. Fun, thoughtful and philosophical. There’s only my older sister and I so I’m not sure if this occurred in our family.

  • Cathy holmes2 months ago

    I am the youngest, so can't say I relate. I can only imagine. Well said.

  • Gargie S Anand2 months ago

    Well said! It's too much to bear and none to hear.

  • Every child has their burden to bear.

  • Novel Allen3 months ago

    I am #4 of seven, I had the same exact problem described here. Ungrateful younger ones who nothing is ever enough. Now they have all that was never my lot and they do flaunt it. I so identify with this poem.

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