sunday morning poetry 


Is a virtue I do not possess.

I wait here, in shadows, the curtain conceals

And I ask it to open, to let me begin

My speech is prepared, my bow perfected

But the spotlight is broken

I chase after it, weak, I’ve been running enough

I listen to words from those that I know

Are not gifted as I, not refined as I

And I wait through it all.

I wait for my moment that never will come

I wait for the time that I can become

That person who shines in a moment in time

But for naught is it all

I can feel my heart harden as I listen to prattle

And chatter that makes me lose my mind

“I’m so good at this!” They say “and so good at that!”

But they’ll never know

That if I had my chance

I’d out shine them all.


Is not a virtue I possesses.