Second Place​

Issue 7

In the mirror I paint ivory foundation on my face,
trying to cover the silver trophy nature of my skin.
-       They see right through me, they know I’m a fake, a fraud, a phony.
 
Never picked first, but never picked last.
Standing on the second step of the podium should make me proud,
but instead, I feel jealous looking up to someone I love.
-       Being in the middle brings safety, but also comparison, competition, cowardice.
 
I hear the murmurs of the crowd,
calling me “ungrateful whore,” “bitch,” and “cunt,”
nothing I haven’t heard before.
-       It’s hard to feel grateful when you’re always overlooked, overshadowed, overwhelmed.
 
Seeing red, but not angry.
I choke down sobs stuck behind a scarlet noose
as I wipe away stinging tears with this cheap polyester ribbon.
-       No matter how hard I try, I always feel untalented, undeserving, unappreciated.
 
I wish I was still in elementary school,
when participation was the only thing that mattered.
Now I’m in the real world feeling anxious, abysmal, apathetic.

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HANNAH ELLIOTT
​is a poet from Savannah, Georgia. She is a senior at Young Harris College (’24), where she is pursuing a B.A in Graphic Design with a minor in Creative Writing. She is the Editor-in-Chief for the student literary magazine, Artemas, where she has had multiple poems published.

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