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The meaning
The cleats grip turf as the morning sun breaks out,
The winds whistle, wakes the sleeping grass
Courage balled up in each of my palms, calm,
As I push through drills and doubts dissolve like grass.
The lockers slam with odors and dirty cleats,
Jokes bounce off the lockers like a drum
A crumpled playbook keeps the routes we use,
Each page stained by win and numb.
My breath leaves clouded in the autumn night chill
I count the yard line marks like a prayerful beat.
Tonight, the scoreboard sits and waits for the winner.
Every heartbeat sings its own rhythm.
So when the final whistle blows and fades,
Just know I was built from the bruises, not from shades.
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I like and enjoy this poem I wrote because it shows the emotion and passion I truly have for the sport and how I feel when I'm on the field.