Children of the Stars
The children of the stars we're called,
Kids born without a sun.
Born on starships deep in space
(The Magellanic run).
My mom was sent to cryosleep
When I was only five.
They put her in a stasis tube,
She's barely kept alive.
Her tube is on the lowest tier,
I know that she's not gone,
In iridescent fluid seen
(When UV lamps are on).
It's strange to see her naked there,
So still and cold and weak.
I swear I saw a tear one time
There frozen on her cheek.
The robots run the systems here.
The people still awake
Work mostly with us space born ones,
Or make kids for the sake
Of filling tubes whose folks checked out,
Why ever that may be
(Some say genetic pruning, yet
It matters not to me.)
I focus on my school and work,
Robotics, Science, Math,
Yet Plasma Fluid Dynamics
Has become my chosen path.
I can't wait for my 15th year
To finally get a tube,
And go to sleep until the day
They wake up all us newbs
To join the other colonists.
A great day that will be!
To feel the sun and smell the wind,
And finally see the sea.
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