In the heart of a family, midst the storm and calm,
Lies a child of the middle, with a quiet charm.
Not the firstborn’s glory, nor the youngest’s grace,
A space in between, a unique, cherished place.
Amidst the cries of “It’s unfair!” and feeling unseen,
There’s a hidden strength in places serene.
No constant spotlight, no heavy crown,
Just a path to forge, without a frown.
You are the silent architect of your own stage,
Free from the pressures of the eldest’s cage.
Not wrapped in the spoils that the youngest receive,
But in the middle, you quietly weave.
We are the least spoiled, yet rich in our way,
With freedom to grow, to dance, and to play.
We craft our own stories, our voices loud,
In the quiet corners, we stand tall and proud.
Embrace the middle, where true strength lies,
With no need for the world to gaze in our eyes.
We build our own status, our platforms, our song,
In the heart of the family, where we belong.
So to all middle children, with love profound,
In the balance of life, our dreams unbound.
We are the artists of our destiny’s art,
In the quiet of the middle, beats a powerful heart.
0 Comments