How silent the rivalry,
the smoldering jealousy of innate measure,
when no contentions rise,
ignored for clearer skies, better weather
and calmer minds.
Why do we choose to compare,
feel lost within our own criterion,
like someone else’s more favored than we,
and with that a focus of spite, a green rage,
in vengeful retaliation.
Competition is an ugly face,
rivalries so common
it makes me question my own place,
but then I recede, for competitiveness was a dark side of me,
and it has long been abandoned.
I watch others compete with me,
alone they are, on the very own,
for no comparison helps anyone,
we do our best and we have won,
but they rally to the fold.
I observe their frantic efforts,
their put-downs and how they ingratiate
the perceptions of themselves, to uplift,
and by comparison look better that we do,
so often in the paint of lies, the picture they drew.
But never have they won,
for who cares but they,
as comparisons are in their mind not mine,
and I could care less their assumptions,
for I am me and nothing more.
And all outsiders see
is a reverie of one-upmanship, sadly pathetic
with their misery in play,
all for the want of jealousy
and the poor self-esteem that bleeds from every plot.
Once I had competition lingering,
but all changed when I stopped playing the game,
and since then egos have shrunk,
and any attempts are met with not much,
as I am just me, with all my relationships and circumstance,
and if you have a problem with that,
then you’ll be losing sleep, not me.
Tony DeLorger © 2018
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