Standing on a virtually lower echelon
I look up at you:
The virtually shining glitter,
Held on a virtual pedestal.
I do a virtual prostrate:
Folded hands, towel within armpit,
Diligently abiding by your every word,
Squirming to voice my opinion:
For you know the best,
As I am made to believe:
I am a lowly subject,
Your side-kick,
Non-existent in your thought-world;
Your noticing of me is my previlege:
A boon; a milestone.
I elate with your every win:
Step after step,
Yard after yard,
Mile after mile;
I blindly trust you,
Ignorantly tread beside you;
Eyes sternly set on you.
Until I realize that
I could own my life;
I could own my opinion;
I could own my voice;
I could own my wars;
And, I could own my win;
However insignificant it is;
All that matters is the joy my soul feels,
And the smile it emanates!
