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.