stuck

I sit

I sigh 

I stare 

Into a night sky

while you build stairs so high 

I sit here with stones, the same

I stare with only myself to blame

I'm to blame for not maintaining my place 

Or even begin to pick up my insufficient pace 

As your stairs embed in this star-ridden night sky 

I tell myself I, too, could pass the greatest stars by 

Foolishness mocking me, since I'm not sure if it's a lie 

Your victory tastes like the bile in the back of my throat

The tang of the sickening envy from the lowest point in my life  

Familiar nausea, flavor of fingers on my tongue, a taste alien to you

For why am I still here, and why are you out of all, learning how to fly