by tyler stenson © 2017 — ASCAP
A middle daughter’s light is only softly beaming—
Like the light between the floor and the door.
There’s so much kept inside,
But it’s the peace she’s keeping,
For keeping peace takes more
Than starting the war.
Yes, she could speak her mind
And put her fists upon the table,
Still, she chooses silence as her sound
And finds her place in line
(Always the piece that’s stable).
A middle daughter stands her middle ground.
I can tell from here
She is more than she appears,
But I don’t think her eyes see the same.
Cause all she sees in the mirror
Is what she’s come to be through the years:
Just a middle daughter with no name.
There’s a confidence inside,
But it comes and goes like spring time;
Growing wild,
‘Til the harvest strips it down—
But she always comes back around.
I can tell from here
She is more than she appears,
But I don’t think her eyes see the same.
Cause all she sees in the mirror
Is what she’s come to be through the years:
Just a middle daughter with no name.
And that don’t sit too well—
In fact, I’m mad as hell—
For all I see is all the pain
Of every single tear
That’s welled up and fell down
Through the years
From this middle daughter wanting her name.
So, I won’t rest until
Her eyes light up in the mirror
As she says aloud her most unique name.
A middle daughter’s light is only softly beaming—
But I stand in awe of the glow.