copy

“copy cat, copy cat – you’ll never win like that”

a taunt to the girl

who colors her posey

the same as mine

vibrant yellow on

the sea of white

black outlined

ditto page

I can smell the ink

on the page

now

and the Mr. Sketch

lemon marker

added to the bouquet

soured my thoughts

of her

creativity at loss

in the carbon copy

of mine

only a reflection

of my own childish

self-worth

too little

even for my small spine

growing straight

into a more

confident confidence

I would have known

the honor

in someone feeling

you are enough

to copy

you are inspiring

a copy

you are a force

that can’t truly be

copied

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