Second Fiddle
Playing the second fiddle,
Being second best,
One might expect detainment,
But there’s never any rest.
Constant adoration,
For the one who broke your chest,
With the constant understanding,
You’re no more than just their jest.
They’ll always be your hero,
And that’s why it’s so sad,
To be the understudy,
To a position you once had.
👁 2💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.