I sit and I watch
And my heart is full
When The Coach said ‘Hold on, your turn’s next’
I sit while my feet tapped
And my fingers fidgeting
And my smile bright
I sit on the white bleachers
I sit among many like me
Our spirits free, looking into the field
I sit and I laugh
Looking at the players tripping and falling
Into the mud, or onto each other
I sit and I cheer and cheer
When they win, when they lose, when they fall
I cheer loud, so they can hear
I sit and I watch
Many of them leaving for the field
Upon The Coach’s calling
I sit and I see
The smiles on their faces, entering the field
When they do not even know whether they’d win
I sit and I think
I want to be there, on the field
To be battered and celebrated
I sit and wonder
What is not enough of me
That The Coach didn’t even spare me a hit or two
I sit and watch
The bleachers are getting empty
By the minute
I sit and cry
And wonder why The Coach has picked me
Only as a cheerleader
I sit and cry
And wonder why The Coach has decided
To sideline me
I sit and cry
And wonder why The Coach thinks
That I am not worth to be cheered
I am here, Coach
For bruises and hits
I am worth a play
I am here, still
I sit, stay and only watch them play
I don’t want to cheer them anymore, not in anyway
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2 years ago