I Am

I am soft.

I am loved and coddled by a mother and a father,

who say I am the center of their world.

I am adored by all

that I have made grandparents for the first time.

I am innocent and precious in the eyes of my aunt,

who thinks of me as her own.

I am spoiled.

 

I am jealous.

I am no longer the only apple in the eyes of my admirers.

I am only the first out of 2…3…4 grandchildren.

I am forced to share the love that is unevenly distributed

among babies and toddlers and a forgotten princess.

I am no longer innocent in the eyes of my aunt,

who longs for a child to call her own, but is not granted this one wish.

I am not old enough to understand loss.

I am selfish.

 

I am quiet.

I am figuring out that I don’t have that much to say.

I am aware that I can be too loud

so it’s best I stay silent.

I am the product of burn and backstabbing;

therefore, I know how to keep a secret.

I am capable of saying too much and not saying enough.

I am restrained.

 

I am replaced.

I am the oldest; no, the middle child.

I am still part of the family, but am I still included?

I am now out of 6 or 7 or something like that.

I am no longer the first because my sister is older.

It does not matter.

I am alone;

 

However, I Am Tough

 

Because I am still learning to share.

Because I am still adapting to every situation.

Because I am persevering through every negative comment thrown my way.

Because I know that I am loved no matter what.

 

But in the end,

I am tough because I started out soft.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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