The Prize

January 17, 2011
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To you I'm just a prize.
You'd like to sit at the podium with your golden medal and say,

“I won”

To me, your a nightmare.

Your in my dreams,

You make me cry

Scream, Laugh.

But I am not to you what you are to me.
You want the satisfaction.
You want to hold pride in knowing,
You have me.

It's not me that you love.

My body and my looks are not beautiful to you,

But something to be won.

Just a prize.

That you will never win.

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