The Best of the Worst

Not everyone can be a winner.
Someone has to finish last
In races run, in battles won and lost
Before the home crowd stands.
Beaten and demoralized,
The hurt reflected in his eyes
Contrasts the winner's open sighs
Who realizes all his plans.

Consolation offers little comfort
To the heavy heart
That Glory's torch eludes
And passes shameless to another's hand.
And although given credit
For a valiant effort on the way,
Deep inside the mind is saddled
With a cross; a loser's brand.

Not to quibble, not to wallow
In the mire of pity's sand;
Though I may not be the winner,
I will be the best I can.

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