Poetry Contest Contestant

I tell myself You will not define me By putting me at the bottom Or in a slightly higher place I see no honor in your mention I am not a favorite child Thankfully my words remain my own Spilled from tipped glass Soaking into white cloth These stains have meanings They exist outside of arbitrary rules I cannot dance to a one person band So I tell myself It doesn't matter Yet why Why! does it make me sadder Sometimes even madder and madder I read through other's winning work Is this some kind of joke? I thought mine had substance Perhaps it was nothing but smoke Wait I said you would not define me Yet here I go again Digging up the old bones that caused me pain Forgetting the meaning of my own stain Poured out Yet no one will see Why? Why? Is it not about me! I want that elusive first place To be the winner of the race Able to be humble Accept the praise with grace Instead I'm denied I settle for a three Not the way it was supposed to be How come the Judge couldn't see? It remains a mystery But wait the next contest I am number one A metaphorical home run Gleaming under the poetic sun Finally Thankfully Defined Until I read a lower number Then I am left to wonder Inside I feel their deeper hunger Their glass spilt Left a darker stain Much more depth within their pain So I start from the beginning again You will not define me! I will not Define Me I will just be. A lover of words Formed into Poetry