Born Without a Finish Line

I was born
already behind.

No ribbon.
No cheers.
Just footsteps
in mud
that wasn’t mine.

They handed me
expectations,
like medals
I hadn’t earned.

Told me,
"Keep running.
Don’t ask where.
Just win."

But I never saw
the finish line.

Just more road.
More pressure.
More people
on the sidelines
telling me how to move.

I tripped
more than once.
But no one clapped
when I stood.

They only noticed
when I stopped.
And even then
they whispered,
not helped.

So I started walking
not to prove
but to breathe.

I left the race
to find a path
that had no crowd,
no clock,
no prize
just peace.

And somehow,
that felt
like winning.