If I could just accept the fact
That I will never be an eagle
Like you,
Whose wings spread so widely,
And whose spirit filled with pride
For all of the things that you have accomplished.
Because who am I compared to you,
A broken-winged pigeon
Who seeks,
Who admires
Your boundless beauty and confidence,
Only to find myself
Intimidated by your presence.
If I could just accept the fact
That I could never soar as high
As you
Who reached their full potential,
And who has been given the honor
Of being one of the most brilliant beings that ever lived.
Because who am I compared to you,
A bird who can only fly
As little
As high
As my small wings could take me,
Disappointing myself
With every stumble and fall.
If I could just accept the fact,
Then maybe,
Maybe I can be just happy as you.
There's always going to be someone better than you.
(So this is actually my first poem here, and I hope to find a passion in poetry as much as you do)