They had waited and prayed and done everything dozens of doctors had told them to- in vain. After a long time they had decided to get their names on a list. When she arrived relieved smiles entered this sad little house and finally the purple little room, that had been empty for so long was filled with stuffed animals and dolls.
They called her Mercy.
Mercy's shy cries sounded like beautiful music to the newly parents. There she was now, lying in the crib smiling at them a genuine and innocent smile of a baby who has not met life yet. A Black smile on white faces. She didn't know how it would be. Mercy was 7 days old. She had no idea she would be walking around with a huge sign on her forehead: Adopted kid.
She had no idea her parents would suddenly get pregnant, with a "real kid". Wasn't she real? She had no idea she would spend the rest of her life feeling different, wondering why her real mother did not want her. Of course, her adoptive parents and brothers would love her. They'd treat her like one of them. But she was not one of them
and nothing would ever change this fact.
On family portraits she'd be the one people look at.
On the street she'd be the one people look at.
When someone mentioned genetics
she'd be the one who'd feel lost.
She'd never know about her real parent's diseases, likes or dislikes.
Where they junkies? Where they dead?
When Mercy had to fill in forms about her family, she would feel embarrassed.
It was her family, but it was not. She would constantly feel disconnected.
There she was, lying in the crib smiling at them.
Their sweet little black sheep.
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