The Price of Aspiration: A Poetic Reflection
If I’m everything you’re not
then yes, it’s a dangerous game.
You mimic my walk,
study my talk,
but lack the hunger that carved my name.
You praise the ground I glide upon,
until you can’t bear the weight of your own gaze.
Aspire to me, yet tire too soon
I chase the moon while you count the days.
Each glance, a mirror you avoid.
Each word, a truth you deny.
So you call me arrogant,
label me villain,
to make peace with the part of you that won’t try.
Naturally, your empathy fades.
Naturally, your envy grows.
Naturally, a friend turns foe
because my rise reminds you
just how low
you’ve kept your bar.