Is it a victory earned or stolen?

A stolen victory, one that is not truly yours, I would imagine tastes bittersweet. At first, it would have a pleasant taste, one like honey or sugar. As the people applaud you a pleasing feeling takes over and runs through you. You smirk with your head held high, until your gaze meets their’s. The person you so foolishly stole the victory from. Their eyes are alight with a fierce fire, one that carries a warning, a promise. And so your confidence slowly fades, as uneasiness takes its place. The sweetness morphs into a bitter, acerbic tang. It spreads through your body like venom, poisoning you nerve by nerve. Slowing breathing your composure, making you question your worth. ‘You do not deserve this’ a voice harshly whispers in your head. It sets alight other thoughts, similar thoughts. As you slowly shatter and crumble into your true form. Nothing