Sick of

It's never good enough
I'm sick of just trying
Watching others get my prize
While I'm left here crying

I'm sick of wanting something
And have it taken away
I'm sick of having nothing
By the end of the day

I'm sick of watching others
Having their own success
I'm sick of always being
Not first, but second best

I'm sick of having everything
I wanted out of reach
The fact I can never have it
Sticks to me like a leech

I'm sick of being cold
And never finding home
and at the end of the day
I'm sick of this poem.

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I was having a completely horrible day. L:ooking back at it, I'm ashamed of myself. Normally a poor day leaves to good writing.