For the game
Eyes’ watch as one strike blows knees, heads, ribs, shoulders and more
What is this edge of arrogance allowing us to pretend we aren’t real
Can anybody withstand such pain without finding age’s years saying look
Stare into what we have done
Can we mend and heal what began in fun
I see the excitement, chests bumping, as they see what they have won or lost
I am remembering life can be fun
I sit with my body and see it’s not the game that causes the injury
It's the attitude of wanting to be free.
