Second-Rate
Close but no cigar;
the story of my life.
I am second-rate,
B-grade material.
“You are smart,”
they say to me,
but I am not the smartest.
I am second-rate.
Mediocre,
and still
the voice inside
whispers,
“failure.”
I am second rate.
I will not succeed.
Only the greatest succeed,
and I
am second rate.
I strive for more
and push myself,
to the limit,
for I will not accept
that I
am second rate.
Still I struggle,
to escape my place
where sorrow lurks,
beyond the blinding mask
of the number two.
I fight through adversity,
but cannot rise
for I am held.
Now I know
that I am second rate,
but no longer is there sorrow,
for no shame lies
in knowing,
that I,
am second rate.
Close but no cigar;
the story of my life.
I am second-rate,
B-grade material.
“You are smart,”
they say to me,
but I am not the smartest.
I am second-rate.
Mediocre,
and still
the voice inside
whispers,
“failure.”
I am second rate.
I will not succeed.
Only the greatest succeed,
and I
am second rate.
I strive for more
and push myself,
to the limit,
for I will not accept
that I
am second rate.
Still I struggle,
to escape my place
where sorrow lurks,
beyond the blinding mask
of the number two.
I fight through adversity,
but cannot rise
for I am held.
Now I know
that I am second rate,
but no longer is there sorrow,
for no shame lies
in knowing,
that I,
am second rate.
