CoC

They hold me to a stranger like a shadow on a wall,counting every place I’m lacking, like they’re waiting for me to fall.Their voices scrape like gravel on the edges of my pride,and I’m tired of being measured by a life that isn’t mine.

Living by comparison,bitterness burns like a bad kind of medicine.They act so innocent,and at the very end I only choke when I try to vent —but I’m no one’s student.

Maybe they were right to say I’m crooked where I stand,’cause I’ve been breaking under standards I could never understand.My confidence is thinning like a thread pulled from a seam,and I’m losing faith in methods that once built my every dream.

Drowning in comparison,swallowing shame like a slow, sinking medicine.Maybe they’re innocent,and at the very end I’m the one who can’t try to vent —maybe I’m just a student.

But maybe I’ve been learning in the quiet all along,and comparison’s a footstool, not a verdict that I’m wrong.Maybe doubt’s a doorway and not proof that I should quit,and my puzzle piece will matter when I trust the way it fits.

Rising past comparison,learning to heal with my own kind of medicine.No one is innocent,but at the very end we all break when we try to vent —’cause we’re all still students.