The Match

Up in the air,

Then hitting the ground.

I'm on my back,

I hear a terrible sound.

The referee's whistle,

As his hand hits the mat.

The match is over, I have lost.

That is that.

My opponent raises his arm,

His supporters all cheer.

I bow my head and think,

"I shouldn't be here.

Then I think of what I did wrong.

I think what should be different or stay the same.

I review the match in my head and it helps,

To rekindle the intesity flame.

I practice each day, working on my flaws,

My strengths come from where I was weak.

I train, and sweat, and bleed for my cause,

Every day of every week.

Then, finally, the day arrives,

The one I've been waiting for for so long.

The day I face the big challenge,

The challenge I've worked for all along.

I see the one who beat me,

The one I faced before.

I give him a look of menace,

To say this is what I've waited for.

I go through my matches,

Each more fierce than the last.

Then I make it to the finals,

So that I may face my past.

I look at the brackets to find out,

If my enemy is next in line.

I see his name and silently rejoice, thinking,

"This time he is mine!"

They call us to staging so we may start the match.

We go out to the ring.

The whistle blows and we start,

This truly intense thing.

We wrestle it out, each trying a different move.

We roll and pumble and grab.

One throws a move, it is countered.

This match is one most fab.

Period one and two go by,

And still the score is tyed.

Then something happened, a move I made,

Which made everyone think he cried.

Then the whistle, a slap, a cheer.

The match is over, I've won.

I beat my greatest challenge.

And now my journey is done.

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