A Prayer to those Who Compare

Oh life,

though I live long,

meaning forsakes my name

as I race to collect another reflection.

Though I am not and will not be the last to

breathe, stare, stand, and die on this planet,

I will do so in a way that is not replicable.

My limbs,

weak and strong

with need to hold what others do

and

walk with the ease that others do.

My eyes,

strong from use

as such muscles are used to look at others

and

back to a mirror. 

My feet,

sore from walking

in an imitation of the shadow

of my heroes and heroines.

Though my body is weakened 

with the strain of jealousy

I continue to stare

and

compare.

I race and wobble to be like them.

I pantomime holding their burdens and titles and mantles

as if imagining

will make it so. 

There are times when I forget to look up

and I catch the sight of a shoe behind me.

I look back and see a younger person,

a child,

  a friend,

   a stranger,

trying in vain to copy my steps.

I desperately want to call out that I am not one to be envied.

I am merely

a shadow of the shadow of my heroes.

But I stay quiet.

I hold back this confession,

as I am no different.

I hear the same voice that keeps my eyes flickering

and my body in pursuit.

As a drug addict knows they worship poison,

I know what salvation could save me;

Breathe,

Be yourself,

for there is no value in living like a shadow.