Oh to be a newborn prince, free from worries and responsibilities, without risk of hurt or harm or woe. Protected, guarded, sealed from risk, encapsulated in a bubble whilst all else stare in. The media dance around, reporters reporting on emptiness, dancing like marionettes caught on the baby’s rotating mobile whilst the world watches in wonder.
The prince lies serenely, unable to speak, unable to look, unable to act. Forever devoid of chance or choice or voice beyond what is allowed, expected and directed by the fundamental presumptions of society. No burden has he of the freedoms of career, religion, class or sexuality when all has been determined for him already, any deviation vehemently denied by the ever-watching, ever-judging public eye.
All hail our newborn prince, forever jailed in the cell of celebrity status, the prison of overbearing and unsuppressable expectation. A baby boy who can only ever smile and wave, smile and wave, smile and wave.
But otherwise a happy time for the young couple
I hop he grows up to be a rebel!
The prince lies serenely, unable to speak, unable to look, unable to act. Forever devoid of chance or choice or voice beyond what is allowed, expected and directed by the fundamental presumptions of society. No burden has he of the freedoms of career, religion, class or sexuality when all has been determined for him already, any deviation vehemently denied by the ever-watching, ever-judging public eye.
All hail our newborn prince, forever jailed in the cell of celebrity status, the prison of overbearing and unsuppressable expectation. A baby boy who can only ever smile and wave, smile and wave, smile and wave.
But otherwise a happy time for the young couple
I hop he grows up to be a rebel!
