When We Were Young
He was twelve when I turned two, and she was nearly ten.
I, a constant shadow chasing after siblings nearly a decade older than me,
Always the trailer of the family.
I was known as eight going on eighteen and adults called me mature.
My likes, my dislikes, everything predetermined by my predecessors.
Their shoes were big but I did my best to slide my small feet into them.
And guess what,
They didn't fit.
I am not her or him or them,
I am me and nothing else.
Now I wear my own shoes and they're a perfect fit
And he wears his and she wears hers and everyone is happy.
Life goes on, and we all grow up,
But it's a lot different growing up in a family where everyone is already grown.