In my hand I hold a ball,
White and dimpled and rather small.
Oh how bland it does appear,
This harmless looking little sphere.
By it's size I could not guess,
Of the Awesome strength it does possess.
But since I fell beneath it's spell,
I've wandered through the fires of Hell.
My life has not been quite the same,
Since I chose to play this stupid game.
It rules my mind for hours on end,
A fortune it has made me spend.
It has made me curse
And made me cry,
And hate myself and want to die.
It promises me a thing called par
If I hit it straight and far.
To master such a tiny ball,
Should not be very hard at all.
But my desires the ball refuses
And does exactly as it chooses.
It hoooks an dslices, dribbles and dies
And disappears before my eyes.
Often it will have a whim
To hit a tree or take a swim.
With miles of hgrass on which to land
It finds a tiny patch of sand.
Then has me offering up my soul
If only it would find the hole.
It's made me whimper like a pup
And swear that I will give it up.
And to take to drink to ease my sorrow.
But the ball knows
I'll be back tomorrow
No comments:
Post a Comment