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My Family

Amian Bent

Isn’t it funny?
How we are denied the basic decency
Of free will,
When the country awards it with all surety,
By our parents, who gave us birth and now see us as their personal property

“Don’t raise your voice before your father
You are disrespecting him.”
But what of the disrespect I have been served?
Merely because I was born a child of him.

People never forget to remind me
How I received the better end of the deal
“He only raises his hand when he is immensely angry
And you are at fault for you raised his temper.”
These are the arguments they use to pacify me
Blatant abuse is thus put to normalcy.

“Don’t argue with your mother
She only speaks for your good.”
But how can she speak for me
When she doesn’t know what I am constituted of?

People never forget to remind me
How I received the better end of the deal
“Your mother always acts so kindly
Her fierceness only rises when you speak against her
So stay quiet, bide your time, and when you escape, you can put it all behind.”
But what of the time now, when I am stuck in this cage, helpless, filled with this unquiet rage?

“Don’t question the privileges of your brother
He is the male child and with thinking before speaking he mustn’t bother.”
But what of the mindless things he says
That strike far deeper inside than it looks?

People never forget to remind me
How I received the better end of the deal
“Your brother is but a little entitled, preferred only a bit over you
So why do you complain about him, too?
He might lack the inherent brotherliness when it is needed but he is definitely protective when the need evaporates.”
But what of the fact that he refuses to raise a finger when my entirety is called to question?

People always remind me
I got the better end of the deal
Far worse others have been dealt
Compared to them, I have the world at my feet
And if at times I am thrown around
Like a ragdoll with seams coming unwound
Then I should suck it up and smile
Because at the end of the day this family is mine.



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