Born to Be Less

Gifted. One of a kind.
She rises on her own in the blink of an eye.
So pretty, she makes the average feel insecure.
You can’t believe she’s cruel—
she’s the best granddaughter of all.
Don’t pretend it’s not true, because I know—
she’s your pride, and I’m just her shadow.

I guess I can’t call her stupid;
she did things I wish I could have done.
Staring at her pictures, I feel sick about my life.
What went wrong with me?
Why couldn’t I end up
where she has?

Don’t feed me bullshit like “everyone’s unique in their own way.”
Fuck that—some people are simply born to rot away.
I hate being me. I hate complaining.
I feel so useless, and you can’t prove otherwise.

And even if beneath the surface she’s wicked and broken,
what does that make me?
I fall short in every way.