My feet only tiptoe,
And my nervous system is a thermometer.
Trained,
And waned,
To live like-
It's normal to do everyday in,
A state of pain.
Reading rooms,
And walking on eggshells,
Tug of war,
And it's like I'm playing volleyball,
But I'm the ball,
And they're volleying too high,
I think I hit the ceiling,
Cause all I see is fighting people,
And annoyed children.
They used to be scared,
Or confused,
Or just plain afraid,
But after it happened again and again,
It just began to drive them mad.
Their shoulders got tighter,
Their jaws always clenched,
They were thirsty,
No -starving,
To have their need for love met.
And they toed the line,
And didn’t know how to keep friends,
Cause all relationships in their life failed them,
As of yet.
How is it fair,
How can it be,
That even when one grows up,
Their childhood stifles who they can be.
The mind is still trying to survive ,
Still in the state-
Of fright or flight.
Sick of showing up,
When others couldn’t come,
Though it was their duty,
And they failed their young one.
Sick of being a mediator,
I’m simply not a judge,
How can I be in charge,
Of being the back and forth,
I'm Utterly done.
It's exhausting,
All the time,
To carry the weight,
When it was never supposed to be mine.
May 18
May 18, 2026 at 9:44 PM UTC
My feet only tiptoe,
And my nervous system is a thermometer.
Trained,
And waned,
To live like-
It's normal to do everyday in,
A state of pain.
Reading rooms,
And walking on eggshells,
Tug of war,
And it's like I'm playing volleyball,
But I'm the ball,
And they're volleying too high,
I think I hit the ceiling,
Cause all I see is fighting people,
And annoyed children.
They used to be scared,
Or confused,
Or just plain afraid,
But after it happened again and again,
It just began to drive them mad.
Their shoulders got tighter,
Their jaws always clenched,
They were thirsty,
No -starving,
To have their need for love met.
And they toed the line,
And didn’t know how to keep friends,
Cause all relationships in their life failed them,
As of yet.
How is it fair,
How can it be,
That even when one grows up,
Their childhood stifles who they can be.
The mind is still trying to survive ,
Still in the state-
Of fright or flight.
Sick of showing up,
When others couldn’t come,
Though it was their duty,
And they failed their young one.
Sick of being a mediator,
I’m simply not a judge,
How can I be in charge,
Of being the back and forth,
I'm Utterly done.
It's exhausting,
All the time,
To carry the weight,
When it was never supposed to be mine.
