The second place medal (trash poetry if you like that kinda thing)

The second-place medal

[this is terribly written with multiple errors that I cannot be bothered to fix]

There is no trophy for second place. Just a medal.

 A metal that holds no other meaning other “good. But not good enough”.

I see it as good enough. A place to settle. To stay.

I’ve come second in many different races.

Never seeing it as a job well done.

I always thought I wouldn’t settle until I found something I came first in.

A sport in which I was the best.

But my options thinned and my medal collection grew.

I accepted the second-place medal with the honour it didn’t deserved.

Settling for good but it wasn’t good enough.

No matter how hard I tried or how good I thought I was

My collection of second place medals grew.

There was always someone better.

I understand why.

They train more then I do

They started games at a younger age

They understand the sport more.

It didn’t matter how long I stuck to a sport.

I was always in second place.

Every now and then I blamed the sport

But a sport cannot control who is good at the game

I was nothing but a walking second place.

And if that’s all I’m good for

Then I’m the best at coming second place.