Hills are not for Kings

Written by: karl marszalowicz

Feelings of
resentment, I
spurred my
immaturity, my old
man, bestowed his
lousy gift of
unwanted knowledge.
taking from him
ungratefully, these
lessons were for
life and patience, I
saw as he worked the
entire world.
From basketball
grounds, to going to
my bedroom, home
court advantages all
his, sitting on his

Angers swelling high
Embarrassment had I 
My day would come

 Early years had I
that passed,
enduring all those
moments, feelings
almost every day, I
grew numb
I, believing for
long stints, life
does not care for
happiness such as
mine, and I gazing
at the man of the
hour every hour
like royalty, taking
my defeats less like
a man, more like a
subject would he
ever pass the

Spending those
I appreciated more
In the coming years

I watched five
o'clock shadows,
form on the court,
his face, our
memories, I felt new
kinds of sadness to
Getting closer to
his score,
understanding his
game more each day,
I panicking, so used
to being the loser
thought those days
would never end, a
mentality to fail
once more might
revive our spirits

Mutual respect
Changing of the
guard had come
All so bitter sweet