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by Mike Still

Since I was two years old in 1986, 2003 is my first time truly experiencing the joy and sorrow of a diehard. I composed a few words:

I have been baptized by grief
Loss for words overwhelming
Hope so strong and ignorant
Washed away in a moment
The cup runneth over, but it isn't mine
Greatness and glory, not yet our time
Prayers whispered, hands held
But something else's presence felt
Mind was needed, in stepped heart
All is lost, we're back to start
No epic could match this tale
A tragedy, my heart impaled

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Copyright © Mike Still. Printed with permission of the author.