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It’s better, to be, the undertrained, underdog.
Than jumping; over, jinxed hurdles,
through, fiery hoops, and, rings.

Or, unfounded, in a metallic maze,
of untruths, and, lost,
like, a lonely, bereft, missing link.

It’s better, to be, underrated,
than, in-over-your-head.
Under, the ever-watchful eye,
of, the overseers;
it’s better, to be, an underling.

It’s better to smell, with your eyes,
those fragrant, delectable stars,
looking up, from under,
that, kitchen table, of, a midnight sky.
Than, to have to clamber, over,
your toileting ego, and, get over yourself,
when, pretending, that your shit,
doesn’t stink.

It’s better, to be, under, than, over.
Just shy of greatness,
yet, unpoured down the sink.

It’s better, to be, under, than, over.
Better to be underappreciated,
than bent-over, ignorant, mentally-dead,
a zombie between the ears.
Extinct.

It’s better, to be, under, than, over.
Unless, you’re overcoming,
the undercurrent,
of those, torrential tears, of pain,
that will soothe you,
long after, the deluge’s sting.

And, when you’ve, finally,
counted, all the missing fingers,
lost, all the stacked decks,
and, dealt hands.
When the wind,
has, all, but, gone, from your sails,
when you’ve kicked, punched, head-butted,
and, fought every demand.
When, you’ve searched, your innerly desert,
to find, that, evasive, elusive, grain of sand.
When, you’ve been, knocked down,
time-after-time, but, every time,
you’ve gotten, back to your feet…

…that’s when;
your courage, your grit, your resilience,
rises up,
and, the real rebel,
within you, arises.

That, comrade,
is, when, you, truly; understand.

©poormansdreams

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