The whole family had been cursed since they had me.

No, you see

I was the first born of a family of workers

who had never known a baby like me.

I didn’t work at all.

I didn’t sleep, I didn’t eat it, and I didn’t cry.

All babies cry, surely? But not I.

When I was older, I grew

but my skin developed rings and circles

that still to this day appear and grow into an awkward kaleidoscope

I have to explain at the dinner table.

When I was older, I never got the rules until I was told

nor understood that I’d been sold

unto lies about meritocracy

that awaited the brave

alas not the sick who can’t be saved -

No, my family was cursed

because they love but can’t understand a child

who says words they’ve never known

as they themselves work too much to the bone

unpaid, overworked, no pension,

don’t complain, don’t moan.

Then came a strange child who dove into books while too ill to leave bed

going through months with nothing said.

I ended up the wrong kind of sick,

or is it the right kind.

As I desperately write

and try

and fight for

another view, an alternative of mind.

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I wrote this during Brian Lou's stream with the first line prompt 'The whole family had been cursed since...'