What does he have that I don't?

Is he more intelligent than me—
or does he just have a voice
loud enough to drown mine?
Does he brings facts—
or merely the skill to silence the rest?
Is he more confident than me—
or just pretentious?

A sculpture you crafted
from the mould of my soul.

Why is his sculpture worshipped like an idol—
And mine thrown in the dumpsters?

Why are my lips and nose up for discussion—
While his face is stamped with admiration?
Why is every crack in my sculpture is blamed on my character—
While his hailed as the proof of hardwork?
Why is he adorned with jewels and golds—
While I lie in ragged clothes?