The 'only child'—
the one who must get all the attention,
the child whose heart is pulled in endless directions,
caught between love and expectation.

The 'only child'—
the one who struggles to understand her parents:
why her father’s anger burns so hot,
only to hear it’s because he loves her.
Why her mother’s tears spill,
her cries of worthlessness ringing in the child’s ears—
yet the child can’t quite comprehend the weight of it all.

She retreats to her room after school,
alone with the silence and her thoughts.
Tears spill as she speaks to no one but herself.
She dreams of a world outside her door,
a world she’s never allowed to explore,
a world that only exists in her mind.

The 'only child'—
the one who rebels in her teenage years,
only to be judged, dismissed,
labeled as a bad child, a disappointment.

But the 'only child' is also the one who becomes a parent,
when she herself still needs guidance.
She wipes her mother’s tears,
holds her close,
while her own tears remain hidden,
shed in the quiet of her room.
The 'only child' bears the bruises of a father’s rage,
because she understands the weight of his pain,
the pain he never learned how to voice.

The 'only child'—
the caretaker,
the misunderstood,
the silent sufferer,
the forgotten one.
The 'only child' is everything,
and nothing,
all at once.