1 Leave a comment on verse 1 0 We’ve all been there; the moment when we realize it’s lost.
It doesn’t have to be that late, or three to nil.
A mental shift occurs, then comes a weighing of the cost
of persevering when it’s hopeless, as if will
eludes us ever afer once expended without cause.
Is it we cannot comprehend pursuit alone?
Pride intervenes to balance worse defeat. Once there, we pause,
to not extend ourselves, we dogs who see no bone.
The faithlessness, it fills us, then, before too long, the hope
erased. A masquerade. A ball without a goal.
That place; a void; the darkness. Bless me as someone who’ll grope
his way to grasp the bottom rung to save his soul.
For I choose ignorance and naivete in my defeat.
I refuse to play in fear or seek excuses.
Abhorrhence of a fleeing, shattered brain commanding feet.
It’s the man who won’t fight loss who’s weak; who loses.


Source: http://footballpoets.org/poems/defeat-2/