Second at Last.

Choosing me,

Because,

She could not.

Choosing me,

Because,

He rejected.

Choosing me,

After all my peers had to leave.

Choosing me,

Unintentionally.

But girl, don't you see?

It's not because you are least,

They just haven't got to see,

The gem inside of you,

It still was not revealed,

At that time because they didn't know,

Who you are till you became close,

Not because in comparison you lose.

Sometimes all we see,

Is the sequence of these matters,

But really sometimes timing,

Is a funny thing.

Do all first loves last?

Do all first choices give joy?

No, 

On the contrary, 

The latter is usually the better.

Because you know what you want,

And what you shan't,

The later the option,

The more specifically and intentionally chosen.

If to you the sequence doesn't affect how deep your affections are for the latter than the first,

Then why do you put such judgement and burden on yourself?

You are not worse because you are second choice,

You just happened to have appeared with a softer voice.

Like a box of extravagant chocolates,

No one knows the surprises you hold,

And the delights you bring,

Until they had finished their dinner.

Like a glass of red wine to the heart,

No one knows the pleasures you provide,

And the good things inside,

Until they had finished their steak.

And who knows?

Sometimes the last served is best,

Like ice cream after a meal to digest.