Where Must I Stand Poem by Riley Choma

Last picked.
Last sought.
Last seen.
First fought.
First blamed.
First claimed lame.
Why must it always be the same? …
Out of tune and out of place; I am green grass midwinter chill.
No matter where I stand that's me.

Most idiotic.
Least popular.
Most dorky.
Least talented.
No matter where I stand I never seem to belong.

I long for a world of chances
I long for a world, I long for another.
What else did you expect me to say?
Just tired of hearing the shatters of my heart and soul upon the floor.
A bag drifting through, through, the wind; this is me no matter where I stand.

I am not you, nor the person you see.
I am the girl drowning in words, thoughts, and confusion.
Halls that seem bright to most appear to me dark and endless.
Each step forward feels like I am sinking, but stationary feels like failure.
Where must I stand?