There's no social echelon

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!