Leader of the Back of the Pack

Never remotely near first place
No gold medal within arms length
Always choking when the championship is close
A case of Agoraphobia in the extreme
Trembled at the idea of a million flashbulbs blinking
Feigned a sprained ankle or a stomach virus to back out
Threw the final game to prevent being exposed as a fraud
Left with a stomach knot twisting feeling after sacrificing morals
For wearing pajamas instead of the proper game attire
Transformed into a socially and morally repugnant mess of a person
That’s usually evident by such moral monsters as Bernie Madoff
Except the guilt is boiled down into a Bouillon Cube of nausea
Terrified of being exposed as the ultimate pretender of the room
Unable to admit to being a closet fan of campy 80s music
Would rather dance to Duran Duran than Justin Bieber any day
An observer unwilling to dip a toe in the opinion pool
Which are some brutally choppy Shark infested waters
Never want to ruffle the feathers of the sharp tongued experts
Who pretend to have the answers to all the World’s problems
Such as curing Breast Cancer and relieving the Recession stress
Hard to believe when the results are as flat as can be
Sometimes flatter than Kim Kardashian’s relationship track record
Can’t place a bet on a horse unwilling to take a major jump
Or getting the shakes instead of being leader of the pack
A long shot when it comes to everything imaginable
Jockeys and supporters who never stick around long enough
Soon put out to pasture when the winning streak has dried up
Credibility torn to shreds like a losing lottery ticket for the 10th time
Ready to hug out the possibility of having a regular seat in the back
Hidden from the teacher’s discerning blackboard and prying eyes
Just willing to make it through each day without any curveballs or shoes dropping
Punching out at five to do it all over again the next day
And so on.