I am not what I say I am.
You rise above me every day to remind me of it. I see you reach up in one soaring motion to greet the sky, and I wish I could be you. Other days, I detest the very ground you stand upon. I used you, it's true. You used me, too.

I can't get out from under your shadow, but it's hard to look at you and not see me. I don't want to bring you down. I don't want you to look upon me with pity. I want to stand up for what I am, and hope, when it comes to the end of the race, justice prevails.

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