I'll end up tied to a wheel

I’m starting to think
That you don’t know what you’re talking about.
You were right,
Right up to the moment that I was positive
You were wrong.
That was the same moment that I made the mistake
Of trying to have some kind of visible pride,
And confidence,
And assertion,
And pride.
That was the same moment that I searched for a college that was an entire universe
Away from where I could end up
And realized that I wasn’t actually as good as the pride you gave me was labeled.
That label said, “Yes.”
What it meant was, “No.”
Instead of trying to tell me what I am and who I could be
And what I should do to be who I could be,
Try giving me 7 billion other people to ride their bicycles to that audition
And let God decide exactly how good or bad I am.
Or better yet,
Give me your ranking and I’ll give you mine
According to every calculation of the words that come out of your mouth.
I hope I’m number 8.
I hope to God that I’m number 8,
And that you’re number 1.
Give me another present,
And maybe I’ll consider bribing the judge of life into boosting me up a couple of ranks,
And boosting you down,
And boosting me up,
And boosting me down.
It would take me 10 tries to be the best.
Did you know that the ultimate punishment for pride is being tied to a wheel
And rolled and whipped and tortured for all eternity?
It is.
I don’t want that.
Did you know that society punishes those with humility and humble appearances
With disdain,
And indifference,
And selective glances to the tops of skyscrapers.
You probably knew that though.
You’d rather like to know that I’m going to be rolled around like a hamster
Than watch me be gracious and humble in my actual lifetime.
What’s that?
Humility’s good?
Well you should have freaking told me.