I win a race. I achieve something great.
Yet the girls in the playground
mock me til I cry and I deflate.
What’s wrong with putting my all
into a sprint I really meant? Yet I bow and say
I’m sorry to the losers who cajole.
Can’t we all be equal partners in the race
of life and love? Or is losing just so shameful
that to want to win is a self-centred disgrace?