Last But Not Least?
To introduce to family,
we lined up with care,
from oldest to youngest,
and dark to light hair.
I sat at the bottom of this chain,
the hardest for any to see,
a child none saw much of, the one out of sight,
a lie when they proclaim, "Last, but not least."
I prepared myself a poem,
to show the world my name,
we all had to show something
the others were all the same.
I cringed to here my mother who loudly said,
"Here we have our daughter, who we've singled out,"
and the fateful words, "Last but not least."
"A lie," I want to shout.
I stepped forward carefully, shake the hair from my face,
"I've come to tell you all the truth," I began my revelation.
"of how the truth is hidden here,
within our family's faces.
I always seem to hear,
things they think I don't know.
I try and tell myself 'They love me,
maybe it just doesn't show.'
I play my games and cry inside,
Mom doesn't know my favorite game.
Brother thinks I have friends,
Father thinks all my friends are still the same.
The problem is