Alone I sit.
The middle child,
often left unseen .
Required by my own belief,
to sit and feel a senseless grief.
Atone a sin that wasn’t mine .
Hogswash,
Codswollop,
Disbelief!
There is no sin,
there is no grief .
This middle childs fine ...
I love my spot on the family tree,
I see all,
yet they don’t see me ..
Alone or independent?
Which ever way you say it,
I love my freedom, liberty.
Self-reliance and self-sufficiency.
I know I cope,
just bring it on.
The middle child is seldom wrong.
When you’ve spent a lifetime learning views,
opposing thoughts whilst catching clues.
You tend to be a creative muse,
and find the best place for your cues
The middle child has a gift,
which often goes forgotten .
We see both sides,
we know the balance,
and...
we’re not spoiled rotten ..
Edited by Kismit, 15 May 2006 - 09:51 AM.











