stuck in the middle
where nothing is bad
but nothing is good
it's sad how drab it is
but at the same time
it's steady

reliable
consistent
in the worst ways possible
when you're in the middle you don't get any pity
lost in a city sea of other people
no one knows your name
and no one will care to learn it
every day the same
sometimes all that I want is to
burn it

there's an ocean of fire in my eyes
in my mind
another sky but hazy smoky
lazy low key
another day at home

another day of arguments
another day of tears
year after year of anger and hate
they say
it's hard for those whose parents split
but wouldn't I rather that than parents hit
though they only hit with words
arguably worse

since they have enough to put food in my mouth and clothes on my back
no social worker will ring the bell
since my bruises are not visual
invisible wounds are visceral
infliction controversial contradiction
extinction of hope