Just posting another prompt. Decided to respond in the form of a poem this time.

Baby Theebs

Baby Theebs

Write about the day you were born.

Who are you?
Where am I?
I’m too tired
To even cry.

I guess I’ll sulk here
On this breast
And wait around
And hope for the best.

This world is cold
And far too bright.
There’s nothing to do
But hide from the light.

I’m exhausted,
Aching, and forlorn.
Already wishing
I hadn’t been born.