For The Love of The Game


Bitter words like body odor,
masked by sweetness.
But underneath it all
the bitter funk is still there.
And then the rain comes
to wash away
the masquerade
and when your paint fades,
I can see your true colors
shining through.
You have no choice but to
give up your pseudoname
abandon your great charade
be accepting of the blame
that all that went wrong
was done by you and your game.
You can’t cast away the shame,
it falls on your head,
like that pounding rain
that reveals the truth
in all that you’ve said.
And your empty promises,
full of nothing but air,
like your mind and your head
and your heart and your care.
Do you dare
to step up
and be the man that you claim?
Or do you refuse to be true
all for the love of the game?


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