tides of unworthy.

I stand separated from the crowd.
        (Your motivation.)
They expel countless shouts of praise.

Each pair of eyes,
the undeserving seers,
watch you light the world below.


Alone,


burning jealousy arouses deep within my soul
deafening the raucous atmosphere.

They call to you.
          (can they hear me saying your name?)


Bodies are breaking my line of vision.
I am frantic.
Pushing through all pretenses.


The final play,
        (your call, your throw)
brings a cry of cheers
near shattering my conciseness.

Forcing me back into myself.


Now lost in the tide
of undeserving eyes,
I run with the wild onto the battlefield.

Shooting for love,
embrace me tonight
      (my feet have no place on the ground)

My soul is spilled out
        (on the 50 yard line)
let me taste of your sweet victory.