Secondhand

Berniece

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

  • Author: Berniece (Offline Offline)
  • Published: August 3rd, 2025 19:25
  • Category: Love
  • Views: 9
  • Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
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Comments +

Comments2

  • Poetic Licence

    Following someone elses dreams in order to please someone, rarely works out, nicely expressed and written

  • sorenbarrett

    I love the last stanza that is so profound in its wisdom. A great metaphor in this poem



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