Born First

Wedding bells, a matrimony so holy

A baby on the way, one they did see coming

She opened the womb, parted the ways , she's a fore runner

But with this came responsibilities, without bonus offers

Dear Uncle, it's your niece , the one that never got to speak to you

Heard stories about you, mostly about your approach and attitude

Different but so alike, battling the same demons

You embraced yours and changed their names to gratituide

You held your family together, you were that glue

You did the job so good, when you passed away, gravity forced the pull

And now there are siblings who don't speak or talk

You held down the game longer than they can hold a grudge

I am scared, I have siblings of my own and it worries me

Bottled worries inside of me, critical of what might be

I want to build a stronger bond, that's why I am writing this

Inspired by your stories , so please just lecture me

Like you, I was born first but I didn't ask for this

It came with no manual, no role model from within

I have to uphold the mantle , play a better game

Facing things head on, things I can really change

So Uncle, take your angel wings, fly down and talk with me

I miss you Uncle, even though we never did meet

But you made the role your identity

Your wisdom brought calmness to the disparities

How can I be the figure to the ones after me?

How do I be the owner, coach and captain of this football team?

Am I already doing a good job?

Or is all this going down to a wrecking ball

Being born first is a cross, many live with it

The resposibilities of sacrificing dreams for all to eat

The responsibility of wallowing in a dark pit

While smiling for your siblings in a make-belief that the land is green

The other day, one of them was sad, depressed

He said he wanted to lay and eternally rest

I felt broken , tried to give his spirit a lift , higher

But I couldn,t , a sinking ship can't save another

You were a bridge to your siblings, so I need some pointers

How can I be gentle as dove and loud as thunder?

Mum misses you . She is never tired of talking of your time on earth

Sometimes I like to call it, The life of Ken Earth.