Sometimes when I’m around you

And people like you

I am reminded that I don’t think very highly of myself

When you look “bad” 

you look like me on a good day

And catching you on a good day

Makes me feel like a little piece of dirt or rock 

stuck in the grooves of your shoes

I thought about this driving home

I passed your house from where I departed and to mine

And everything in that moment just made sense

I assumed you had nothing to do 

and so when you had plans by the time I had arrived

I was surprised

But on the drive back from where I departed, and

To my house, I passed yours

And I am still just a rock in your shoe