Appointed At Birth Poem by HAZEEM OLADIPUPO OLUWATOBI KAZEEM

Every morning
I wake before the sun,
Not because I am older,
But because I am expected.
I carry plates,
Carry water,
Carry silence.
Their laughter spills like freedom
Across the compound
While I gather their mistakes
Like fallen leaves
That were never mine.
When they break something,
My name shatters louder.
When they forget,
I am remembered.
You look at me
As though I signed a contract at birth,
Caretaker.
Scapegoat.
Shadow.
I spoke once,
Carefully,
Softly,
Hoping my words would build correction.
But they returned to me
As scolding.
As blame.
As proof
That even my voice
Belonged to discipline.
Am I your child
Or their servant?
Was I born
Or appointed?
Still,
I work.
Still,
I swallow.
Still,
I stand.
But somewhere inside,
A quiet rebellion grows,
Not a shout,
Not a storm,
Just a spine
Learning its own strength.
Not against you,
Father,
But against the weight
You placed on my shoulders
Without asking
If I could breathe.