Others I look at while I stand
On the dirt from which I was raised
The others on the platform praised
They walk on us as if we’re sand
They act like they’re better than us
And they laugh at all of our falls
They stand tall thinking we follow
They don’t think that we’ll make a fuss
Tossing us like we’re bouncy balls
We’re riches on which they wallow
With all this hate and scorn I give
I realize that we are the same
I look at myself with great fame
On a platform I think I live
I’m the wood in my own splinter
I made myself what makes me frown
I need an alter of my course
I want to escape the winter
I need a ladder to climb down
With every step I’ll find remorse
At the bottom are all true friends
From queen to working ant I’m found
I’m finally on solid ground
And in my heart I’ve made amends

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