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Aug 2014
With the widest grin
little Timmy did begin
to scurry across the field
to Coach, his eyes peeled
for the same happy smile--
Coach just waited for awhile.

"Coach! Did I make the cut?"
Timmy asked, his heart in a knot
Coach, however, sighed
he just couldn't lie.
"No, Timmy, I'm afraid not
in fact, I need to tell you a lot."

"Frankly, your game *****
I've seen faster moving ducks
You just can't seem to hit the ball
your swings don't come close at all
My ex-wife has more game than you
I just don't think you could improve
My opinion is you don't have a knack
for any sport, as a matter of fact
You wouldn't be good at anything
Hellen Keller wouldn't have you sing
And I am sorry, but I have to say
I was just told by authorities
that your parents gave you up
said they were done with that chump
I don't think you'd ever be adopted
any hopes of that should be stopped
The only place that might take you
is a sweatshop making ninety-two
cents an hour, but that's good news
I mean, what else could you do?
And, someone ran over your dog
He's in a coma, but for how long?"

And with this, Timmy's heart broke
His world shattered; no more hope
With a tremor in his words,
he opened his mouth and he slurred,
"Coach, that just can't be true!
You're just kidding, aren't you?"

Coach smiled, and then he said,
"Yes I am. The dog's already dead."
Frank Ruland
Written by
Frank Ruland  25/M/Virginia Beach, Virginia
(25/M/Virginia Beach, Virginia)   
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