my dreams are laced
with the desire for a white castle,
for endless jewels and riches,
and the faults that accompany glory.
in the shallow pit of envy,
i am left to fill the demeaning role
of an onlooker --
always close to the success of others,
but too far away to forge any of my own.
of my impatient jealousy
is borne the ugly yearning for more;
had i everything there was to have,
satisfaction would elude me,
reminding me of the desperation
that coexists alongside mediocrity.
on the fringes of my happiest moments,
i am haunted by inferiority's relentless assault.
will i ever learn
to accept second best?