Victory over Strife

I wonder what it would be like to try a life that was so tough,

That the chance for victory would be slim enough...

Life is a photographic competition in a way.

To be professional you have to pay.

You need cameras, equipment, talents, and skills.

Or else you never win anything from the judgment till.

So how could I a novice at life,

With no talent, no game, nor flashy speech to relay,

Even compete in such a professional game play?

It seems as though the photo I desire,

Is much too far for the camera I’ve acquired.

So as I run, walk, and then crawl,

To harvest the photo once ‘n for all.

It appears to me that it’s already been received,

By a professionals camera that was intended to intercede.

So how could I a novice at life,

With no photos, no sketches, nor masterpieces.

Even compete with the professionally trained elites?

When judgment comes and I turn in my gear,

I get many strange and interesting glares.

So I slump to my corner of my pitiful life,

To let the professionals rub in my strife.

Until I hear my name called aloud,

To be a winner amongst the great crowd.

So how could I a novice to this life,

With no talent, no game, nor flashy speech to relay.

Even compete with these professionals game play?

When I walked from my dark corner in fear,

I noticed the stares became friendlier as I drew near.

So I asked the judge if there was some sort of error.

Replied He with boldness, how it couldn’t be fairer.

I received the rewards of excellence and first place.

For keeping up as a novice in the professionals race.

…Slim was the victory of the toughest life.

But victory’s the end, when you don’t give way to the strife.