everyone is just a trophy a ribbon with gold lettering paraded and pinned on trafficked without knowing but I don't want to be someone's harp, the goose that lays gold eggs for show, i am not the prize that follows your glory days stuck in a stadium i am desperate to shake this off, the bragging rights scrawled over my shoulders i do not want to be spun on a pedestal before your family--what kind of infamy gently unwrap me and hold me in your palms, i am more injured bird than vince lobardi trophy.