The Nets Hold Our Dreams Like Tangled Bugs,
And The Courts Gleam With Our Ambition,
Beads Of Sweat Form Perfectly On Our Raised Brows,
As We Play With The Attitude A Champion Needs,
We Are Dressed In Black And Blue,
Floor Burn Covering Our No Longer Smooth Skin,
Our Lips Bleeding From The Battle For The Ball,
The Sound Of Screaming Becomes White Noise,
As We Burrow Into The Gym Floor,
Just For One More Medal,
And As We Walk Away From The Courts,
With Our Arms Bruised And Torn,
Red And Raw,
We Smile At Our Dreams Still Lying,
In The Twisted Nets
I feel bad for her because I know she's hurting.
But does she know how much pain she puts on me.
Making me think he doesn't love me.
Maybe I believe it.
That's the pathetic part.
Her pain causing the problems of my future life with Him.
This is not the love of a mother.
Who doesn't approve of her daughter.
Who she is now.
The person that she loves to be.
This is emotional abuse.
God get us out of this labyrinth.
Set the generations of past free for the future.
For only the hole in my chest is never going to fully recover with this madness.
This is not good madness.
The repetition of the flash on the screen makes my heart panic.
Alas it should be comfort that the soul encounters.
Pray with a quorum of 10
Debate with assembly of 9
Scottish dance with a collective of 8
Party with a gathering of 7
Play volleyball with a group of 6
Rank on a scale to 5
Practice music with a band of 4
Perceive in a dimension of 3
Make love with the intimacy of 2
Write poetry for an audience of 1