Morning Chronicles

Good Morning,

It is not a good morning for me,

I woke up in shame again,

I don’t know how it happened,

I just find myself in it,

I woke up to a pool,

A pool of my own fluids,

My beddings all wet,

My pajamas drip of urine,

My very own,

At age 16!

 

I have to hide this from my peers,

A thing I have done for years,

I slip off my wet pajamas,

Cover my shame with a leso,

Peep, peep and peep

Stealthily, I ran into the darkness outside,

With my luggage of humiliation on my back,

This darkness comforts me,

The only that knows my secrets,

This blackness buries my humiliation.

 

My trip has been rough,

When rain comes it gets tough,

I wish it was a cough,

Or a malady I could talk about,

I would avoid the dripping foam,

A sleepover would be so much fun,

Laundry wouldn’t be my everyday thing,

But I’m trapped in this.

 

I hate the idea of inheritance,

It adds sores to my soul,

For to me being an heir is doom,

At times I wish I had a choice,

It could have been my father’s height

My mother’s intelligence,

But it just had to be this.

 

It is harder when I’m the popular one,

Best in music, best in physics,

An influential being, with an accent so foreign,

My black has to remain with the night,

I can’t just let this fade,

I have to keep this reputation,

So I choose to step on this pain,

It is a bitter pill yet the best,

As I wait for my freedom,

Maybe at 18!

 

When will this stare stop?

When will you stop pointing a finger?

We did not ask to be this way.

So, why?

You accuse us of every foul smell,

You  look at us as if we refuse to lock our bladder intentionally

Yet you are only lucky to be born that way

Why?

You call us names because of a condition,

You call us weak ‘cause our system failed us,

But why?

Sherry 2017/3

bed-wetting

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