a Poem by Raquel Swann
Where did I go wrong?
Words, so many words,
none to trigger the soul,
not a single one finding its way
into their hearts.
like a fiftieth place runner
in a marathon,
loved ones wait at the finish line,
with a comforting high five,
but the winner gets the trophy,
I get the participation medal
“At least you finished,” they say
“You should be proud,” they whisper.
But I’m NOT proud,
I don’t care if I finished.
My desire is to win just once,
but what is winning, really?
Something I know nothing about.
