Stack Up


United States
38° 54' 50.1768" N, 92° 44' 17.4012" W

To the left of me, are the misfits:
The kids who do not belong, but seem to stay here all along.
The the right of me, are the guided:
The kids who belong, seem to be going places and helping others along.

Well, here I am. Stuck in the middle.
My own high expectations break my reality.
My parents enthusiasm runs me in riddles,
Because I don't stack up when compared with others.

I am of the color which makes it seem like I should have a 36 on my ACT,
But I barely skip by with average grades,
I put in effort and to my dismay I react,
Because the kid with a 36 gets further every day.

I work on robots and try my best,
But I am looked as nothing more than a money with a wrench.
A silly little kid who is okay, maybe a little bit obsessed.
However, I still get ignored because I haven't been at it since I was seven years old.

Every day that passes makes it seem so long.
There is nothing to strive for when the world keeps kicking you along.
For some reason I don't stack up next to the rest.
Not quirky, not smart, just normal at best.

Guide that inspired this poem: 


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