Have you ever stood where it felt like middle ground?
Life continues to go around.
Balance is unknown,
living in the bipolar zone.
In between failure and success,
ceasing to express,
instead, I suppress.
True to alcoholic character,
fleeting in a moment’s stress.
Will the chains of failure
break if I stay?
Stay to see a successful day.
Defaults stand in my way.
On middle ground do you choose?
If you win or lose.
Not ever being here I stand confused.
Lost and scared
dare I share?
To others, I compare.
Broken and beaten,
strength I have gained.
But pressure is different to maintain.
These fears I contain.
Trusting one’s self after a life of shame,
rather I continue the pain.
Why can’t I see that it is I that do this to me?
With a broken brain and tormented soul,
middle ground is no place for me.
When left up to me,
I chose the pain and its familiarity.
Can’t I choose just not to be me?