a poem from a wrestling fan

Here I am a broken man,
one out of a million,
more like one out of a billion.
A fan that no one knows,
a man that we see for 15 minutes,
who brings excitement to the shows.

Here he comes to the ring,
a player of this game.
A person that we don't know,
who we only know by name.

He appears to be a bad guy to some,
and a family man to others.
Now it's time to carry on his name,
all you sisters and brothers.

The roaring screaming fans,
will miss the look of your face.
The one that we called "Nudget",
for you are in a much better place.

I hope that you will see,
that you'll be missed much.
The thousands of roaring fans,
and the lives that you have touched.

*Dedicated to Owen Hart*

5/25/99

theflannelman@hotmail.com


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