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 lessons, 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 throne

Angers swelling high
Embarrassment had I 
My day would come soon

 Early years had I that passed, enduring all those moments, feelings disappointments 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 scepter? 

Spending those moments
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 win
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