Waiting

I lace my cleats, pull the knot tight

Preparing for battle, preparing to fight.

I eye the opponents as I radiate fear

The spectators gather, all ready to cheer.

The music starts blaring, the beats start to rise

A look of intensity pierces from my eyes.

My team starts our warm up, we spring all as one.

We stretch and we pass and we shoot and we run.

Our coach brings us in to plan our attack

We stand close together and never look back.

We cheer as a team, and then take the field.

Yes, I'm excited, but I'll never be healed.

Because each game I head to the same exact place:

"My starting position," with a look on my face

Of sheer frustration. My fire dies down

And when the whistle blows I try to hide my frown.

You see, I'm a bench warmer-stuck on the side

It's hard to stay positive, trust me I've tried.

My coach just ignores me, I never go in

So should I be happy when the ref says we win?