I am mud
Unrefined, unpolished, useless, unneeded.
You are clay
Coveted, important, useful, cherished.

But bro,
Why must we differ so?
From the same bosom were we conceptualized—
The breath of life flows into both our veins.

I know why.
I understand the reasons why we both stand on opposite ends.

As the years pass we endure torrential rains,
Though under pressure, you shone,
Like a dirty diamond in the rough

Yet I remained
Sinking, drowning in the weight of my name.
Trampled beneath hurried feet,
Washed away without a thought.

You are molded, shaped by careful hands,
Given purpose, given form.
Praised for your resilience,
While I chip away into dust.

I hate you, for my name.
You are me, I am you
Do I hate me?

Or do I hate what they have made me.
For you are clay and I am mud
A one sided cycle of resentment,
Blood spilled Blood Brothers.

Building a foundation, leaving one to stand and other left to fall
Neither of us asked to be here
But truly, what can I do?

So as it continues to rain,
I remain to be the mud under everyone
Trapped under the feet of my own ethos.