The Award - Poem by Austin Wheeler
On Awards night, I'll be in the back corner.
Faces are lit, wealth is spread to our winners.
I spout unrestrained Truth, Sojourner.
I had hope enough to skip my dinner,
For an evening of expected acceptance.
They honored all with a piece of orange rope.
Handed me a card worth nothing after,
Which said I scored high, 'Me not dope! '
I did walk away with lungs of laughter.
That meant the world to me.
Obtained digits to rich chick to the left.
Do my awards or lack of them define-
Me? I need to focus chi on heist or grand theft.
Cause while the rules float above me and I still care about the line,
Nothing will ever become mine.
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