This city

by ale

In this city, my worth is measured in numbers.

In decimals on a report card

In a percentage upon hundred.

In distance covered during trainings

In seconds on a stopwatch.

In positions at competitions

In hours spent working.

In dollars earned an hour

In digits in my bank account.

In this city, my worth is measured by people.

By teachers splottering red ink

By parents wrought with sighs and grief

By friends investing time and gifts.

By spectators watching the race

By likes per minute on an insta feed

By followers retweating my tweets.

By you, through your colorblind eyes.


In this city, my worth lies in your hands.

In this city, life is not worth living.