The Year had twelve children,
who looked him deep in the eye,
and asked for a reason
for their suffering.

January's boy
was born in a blizzard,
and he now lives
in a storm of self-hatred.

February's daughter
was born in the month of love,
but now she stares at the ceiling,
wishing to be held.

March's child
was born when the flowers start to bloom
and now they watch
their parents stomp on their bouquets.

April's son
was born with rain pouring outside
but now he watches his dreams
drip down the drain.

May's girl
was born with her whole family watching,
and now they all watch to see
if she will disappoint them.

June's guy
was born to be the golden boy,
but now he stares at April's son
a little too long.

July's baby girl
was born with a lost twin,
and now she's trying to fill the chasm
that lives in her mother's heart.

August's soul
was born and got a little blue blanket
but now he steals his sister's skirts
and tries them on when no one's watching.

September's sweetheart
was born the day after her mother,
and now she kneels by her grave
every single Sunday.

October's kid
was born to a pair of kids themselves
and now he packs his bag
to go to Dad's on Friday.

November's baby boy
was born on a cold tiled floor,
and now he sits on that same ground,
counting his pocket change.

December's ghost
was born in the bitter cold to no one at all,
and now she sits in the shadows,
waiting for the light to come.

When the Year asked for details,
January's boy stepped forward.