Cracked Pot and Scuffed Pan
Shall I compare thee to someone that I'd like to be?
Should I, compare thee on this summer's day?
I think not, comparisons are dangerous you see,
Unless I compare myself with who I was yesterday,
The cracked pot and scuffed pan that make my soul,
Are mine to mend and polish alone,
And every fissure I've fixed, and scuff I've scrubbed until it's shone,
Have left me a little better than if I had done none,
So no, I will not compare myself to any gone before,
Nor any that daily travel the road along my way,
I will content myself with one question and no more,
Am I a little better than I was yesterday?