I am bullied, for I am small,
He is praised, for he is tall.
He thinks he's better than me, because he is
And I am losing, for the game is his.
Although it's close, he laughs in my face,
But I'll win; I'll beat him, some other time or place.
I practice, as hard and as much as I can
For when I beat him, I will be the man.
They'll stop praising him, and they'll praise me,
For at that moment, I will be better than he.
I'll finally wipe his winning streak clean,
And that will pay him back for being mean.
Today is it, game day, my day, D-day.
Today, I, by myself will leave him in disarray.
His souped up baller verse my new one,
But he'll be upset when it's all said and done.
The game progresses, this could be it!
At the buzzer, it's up, it's in, I really did it!
I've never seen him so mad and *******
As when he pressed the reset button and turned the console off.
My practice, my progression, my game! it's all gone.
That's it, I won't play anymore, I'm done!
I'll get him anyhow, you'll see, oh boy!
But since I'm no man, I"ll go play with my other toys.
This is a poem I wrote in High School about a true story where I beat my older brother (by 10 years) at NBA Hangtime on the Nintendo 64.