I am tall.
With all the grandeur that is due me. I am glorious and truly admired by many. During the day I reach the clouds, but something is amiss when things are bright and gay.
I am alone.
I cannot find a suitable partner to overlook the Parisian landscape with. I am just standing on my own, holding my own every single day.
I am proud and vain.
I am used to being looked up to. I would not settle for anything less, much less roll over or bend for something which could not reach my level. I am not like the Leaning Tower of Pisa which tried to reach the ground for something as stupid as gravity. I am stable, and whether men climb up and reach me, I remain unfaltered.
I am overlooked during the day.
I can never outshine the sun or outsize the sky no matter how tall I am. On sunny moments, I am just part of the greater scheme of things.
I am just like everybody else during the day. Part of the Parisian landscape, epitome of peace and amabasadress of goodwill.
I have issues.
There are times I cry with tears not reaching the eyes.
Often I find myself questioning my worth, but I know that it is in the darkest corners where I shine the brightest. It is where I look my best. It is where God shines best.