Secondhand

I chased borrowed

dreams, because

I loved

the dreamer

I stood,

head down,

at a starting line

Wearing someone else’s number

I sprint blindly

Wait

These aren’t my shoes

Stop

I didn’t pick this race

So I walk

Dragging my failure

with me

I come in dead last.

Finished, but

not proud

Just hurt

Next race,

I’m not just benched

I don’t even have

a name

Those dreams?

they weren’t mine to chase

And they aren’t mine

to mourn