The First Child

The first child is born well and brave
He must endure the ice and fire
His heart a crucible of gold
A cup to hold his parents’ hopes

The second is born slyly smart
For he cannot ever be first
He learns to measure every risk
And weigh his options privately

The last child is born in lightness
He learns to lure what he can’t fetch
And feels oppressed by his elders
Yet burns to be equal to them

Still, the firstborn is worst born
He is ahead of everything
And behind nothing except his
Parents’ foolish expectations

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