I’m tired

Oh so tired

Of wanting to be chosen

Of wishing I was the

First choice

Instead of the second

Or third

Maybe even

Fourth choice

I’m exhausted

Of hoping I’m enough

Funny enough

Pretty enough

Interesting enough

Worthy enough

Because for you

I’m not

And I don’t think

I ever will be

So why

Do I keep sitting on the shelf

Watching myself be passed over

Day after day

Gathering dust

I’ve done this to myself

I chose to sit here

Knowing the reality

Why can’t I get up now?

Why can’t I move forward?

Hope

It must be hope

That is holding me here.