Middle Child

She wasn't loud, just a whisper in a house, the middle child that no one seemed to notice, a quiet shadow behind her family. Laughter echoed down the hall, while they went out having fun, she stayed at home and left with chores, she bore the weight of everyone. No one asked if she was okay, no one checked on her, as If she didn't matter at all, and she end up suffering alon quietly. Every night she cried her self out, but never made a sound afraid if they'd heard, but still she hoped, hoped they would see. She grew tired. tired of trying, tired of being unseen, tired of feeling like she wasn't their daughter. She wrote her truth, "I love you all" the letter said. But I'm to tired to beg. I gave my best, I swear I tried hoping you'd love me too. Maybe when I'm gone, you'll finally care, you'll finally notice, I love you still ... but I can't do it anymore. Tears began to fall, regrets screamed inside their hearts, and apologies poured out too late for their daughter's lifeless body, for the loved they never showed.