Unreachable Level for Me

We started writing like it was just a game
But the more we wrote, the more it brought us fame
We weren't unknown anymore, we were finally known
They read yours, his, her's, and even my own...
One year and a half later
We're still writing and getting better
But it seems to me that everyone has reached the next level except me
I'm pissed off, but don't think I’m angry at you cuz I’m not full of envy
I feel like we all started as regular Mario's, and everyone but me all ready got the mushroom
I'm still struggling with these turtles, I feel alone, alone in this room
Similar to Issaka, I sit here with a pen in my hand without something to write
(Someone once told me that i wasn't a king anymore, but a mere peasant, i think he was right)
You don't understand, at least Issaka had a pen in his hand, all I had was a blank journal laid out in front of me on the surface of my bed
Even if I had a pencil, there still would've been nothing, my period was done, it as if the pencil had ran out of lead
I don't get it, I started out fine, yet right now I can't come up with a good sensible rhyme
As I’m writing this I’m just hoping these are well-written lines
When we started the first class with Mr. Algarin, Issaka had all ready written like a whole page of his "Dis" poem, I only had about one, two, three, four, five, six lines, that was the first sign
The first sign of my downfall, I realized that I couldn't write any rhyme or a hot line
He was Leonardo di Caprio and I was just Toby Maguire
He was always telling me my poems were hotter, but now I think he was a liar
You played the main character in the Titanic(The best-selling movie ever) while I played some comic-book super hero
I can't believe I lost my flow, on a scale from one to ten I’m so low, I’m a zero
I mean, Issak man, your poems are so hot they're spreading like fire
Me on the other hand, I'm like a friggin SUV with three flat tires
Please, don't think I’m not confident because I am and I hope I’m not making it seem like I don't have any self-esteem
But I do have a fear, a fear that this year I might not make the team
People have told me that the class will still choose me, but you know who they're going to pick
I feel like if they do choose me, I’m going to be dreaming, it 's just going to be like a dirty trick
It's not fair for me to be on the team when so many others deserve the spot more than me
For those of you who still think I’ll make it can't you see
I've been to Mt. Everest and now I’m back
If I was still nice, I’ll be able to climb back
I used to be like an All-American QB, but now I just got sacked
But by who? By me? By you? Or by the realization of the truth that I’ve been knocked off my own roof
I’m like a NBA player believed to be an All-Star, but slowly and unbelievably I started to stumble over my own dribbles, started to miss shots, and started to lose money
Then all of a sudden POOF, fame was lost, image destroyed
I even got proof, how is it that everybody is writing slam poetry except me
There you have it, talent gained, talent lost, or maybe talent was never found, never there
I’m the kernel that never popped, the pc that never got upgraded, or maybe the civil rights leader who got shot, or maybe the principal who got demoted
He may be focusing too much on everybody else because he believes they’re writing better poetry than him
He doesn’t know how they write on paper their poetic selves from within
WHAT’S MY PURPOSE, THE TIME IS NOW for LOST REVOLUTION, WHO EVER KNEW, STAGE FRIGHT
Are they really writing better poetry or is it that he just hung up his gloves because he didn't want to fight?
He has to conquer the darkness; his mom can’t keep on holding the flashlight
He has to wake up and work fast because it’s getting dim
Is there really darkness, is he really talentless, is everybody really better, or is it just him?