Loss
On the bus, all so sweaty,
Fillled with hate, and meaningless pity.
Head down, you know you lost,
A single game you feel you tossed.
The whole ride home, all so quiet,
All in thought of the early riot.
Get back home and hit the shower,
Take so long it felt an hour.
Hold your head high, you did your best,
Now to bed for a joyful rest.
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.
