The Middle of the Poem

This poem that you now Hold in your hands Has only a middle No beginning no end The second you blink Your half way through Smack dab in the middle Without a clue Moving along Nary a care Before you know it You're hitting thin air With nothing that you Can grasp onto No beginning no end In front of you Take this from the middle For all that it's worth Subtract a few lines Take out a few words That would start it out right Then perfectly end This poem of the middle You now hold in your hands