You are always rated second best.
Your name is forgotten after the contest.
You are a Jack of all trades and a master of nun.
You have entered every competition but never won.
They call you when there is a job to be done.
They expect you to do it just for fun.
Like a ticking clock, you go with the flow.
Like a punching bag, you take every blow.
Like a small puppy, they train you and breed you.
Like a rental car, they use you and leave you.
Yet it happens every time no one ever notices.
No one realizes you have your own policies.
You have a beating heart and a burning desire.
You have preset goals and you are aiming higher.
Into your barrow you return at the end of the day,
Restless, dejected, and full of dismay.
Maybe, just maybe, you will have a better tomorrow.
Where you will be the victor and overcome the sorrow.
Take heed, all your passion is gone.
Even your friends left you, now you are all alone.
Like a coffin, beautiful on the outside with a rotting interior.
That's exactly what it feels like to be inferior.