Middle ChildJust another poem....what countless middle children might be feeling like I am.
Below me is the youngest child, the baby, spoiled till she's savage.
I'm the middle child, timid and emotionless outside but burning on the inside.
I'm the least wanted, the one no one listens to, where family rules no longer abide.
I protest unfairness and I'm punished, shoved away.
Sent to be alone, by myself for another day.
All my friends are my sister's, both oldest and youngest.
They take the sides of them, and leave me with distrust and awake rest.
The parents say I'm wrong, they don't want to hear my side.
I'm the middle child, where family rules no longer abide...
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