The Sands of Rhyme

I thought the poem I wrote was fine Though yours was so much better than mine I might even have blushed But my ego was crushed Now for the rest of the day I'd whine Then the next day I picked up my pen But your poem was better again Yeah I knew it was rash Threw my pen in the trash I guess some things you never can win As I look back at my place in time And the mountains I never could climb All my poems held dear But no fame would appear Forever lost in the sands of rhyme