It isn’t that I always lose,
And yet I say I do
To show that life’s no pleasure cruise
To passengers and crew.
Instead, it’s like a dreadful sail
Through tempests, squalls and storms;
It’s little wonder that I fail;
That’s one of breathing’s norms.
And so I seek opponents out
Against whom I must yield
Because I’m not in any doubt
Who’s weakest in the field.
And, when I end up last again,
It satisfies a burning yen.
Photo by Bernard on Unsplash
“Loser”
