Last Hit
The body is covered in rags
the cloth as dirty
as the ground
on which you walk
the young mind
buried within the field
a never ending path
a sensation that kills
and a feeling that thrills
with each cut
comes another stitch
with each fit
came another twitch
another time that
you missed the hit
like a battered ball
the batter split
for as hard as you swung
each time you missed
for as hard as you tried
you didn't make the list
you were always picked last
even in your own home
what does feel it like,
to be all alone?
having to grow up
more each year
and by the age of ten,
your childhood would disappear
out comes the truth
of your father given fear
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
