A shadow creeps, it wraps me tight,
A whisper speaks, “You’re not quite right.”
They shine so bright, their laughter rings,
While doubt in me, a dark bird sings.

Their perfect worlds, on display they lay,
My flaws stand stark, in disarray.
I strive and climb, but never reach,
The summit seems forever out of reach.

Am I too loud, or much too still?
My words fall flat, or cause a chill.
Their easy grace, a foreign tongue,
My clumsy steps, forever sung.

But wait, a voice, a gentle hum,
A truth inside begins to come.
This yearning heart, these hands that mend,
My worth’s not found in how I blend.

The path I walk, uniquely mine,
My scars and stumbles, a strength that’s fine.
To chase the sun, and let it guide,
In my own light, with gentle pride.