This middle ground 

Between me and everyone else

Is so muddy and murky

I often find myself sinking 

Into the brown mushiness beneath me

And end up squelching my way over

To the rocky ground of everyone else

Or wading my way back

To the soft green fields of myself

The problem with the fields

Is I can get lost there for days

Or even months

They are wild and overgrown

And I love them this way

But most refuse to meet me there

They prefer I meet them on the rocks

Where my feet get torn up 

And my face gets cut by the harsh winds

So I have been exploring this middle ground

It is just so unstable

And I have to come back 

To take breaks in the fields

Or seek shelter on the rocks

But I am sure one day I will find

A perfectly hard and perfectly soft

Spot of land

In the middle ground

Where I can build a home.

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