I came in third place in a race.
The winner of the race shook my hand,
congratulated me,
then reminded me that I lost.

I was happy for him, of course.
He ran fast. Good for him.
But he needn't push his gold in my face.

My bronze contented me plenty;
now it feels worthless and *****.
I feel dumb for thinking third place
was worth acknowledging.

I don't run, there was no race.
This is just a stupid analogy
about a stupid kid who made me sad
because he did better.