The Second Fiddle

I was a sore loser

there was no other way around it---

it was in my makeup and I was predestined to begrudge anything I didn't understand

I was a mess

and an onlooker

and a bystander who was always losing my binoculars and blaming it on someone else

I was a hot air balloon

wanting to always be somewhere else with flying colors that i didn't know the name of---

and the envy of them---

standing there in the field with the brown grass turning to the right

and so I tipped my hat

because there was no one looking back at me---

to do the same