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When I was born in late June
It was under the star of misfortune.
Many knew I was not the first
To be born under a curse.

As I lay here now
I only ask myself how.
How could I have done a sin
That would lead my life so grim.

Trapped in this bed
Laying as motionless as the dead.
I look outside where there is bright light
To watch the clouds and birds fly till it is night.

My curse is what makes me stay
To never go outside with others and play.
My curse leaves me weak
To where I never have enough strength to speak.

They say that there will be a day
To rid my curse and end my long stay.
Soon I will be free
Where no curse can haunt me or so they tell me.