The Numbers' Game

It’s crushing.

The bile builds and rises.

The tears burn. The cheeks flush.

The frustration. The disappointment.  The failure.

It’s the numbers’ game.

 

It’s a benchmark.

It’s what I’m worth.

It’s all I can achieve.

It’s everything they see.

It’s the numbers’ game.

 

Desire, ignored.

Passion, wasted.

Pleads, silenced.

Hopes, diminished.

It’s the numbers’ game.

 

I am 570.

Average. Unremarkable. Unworthy.

No 760.

Not even a 650.

It’s the numbers’ game.

 

Rejected.

Dismissed.

Praying for a chance.

It’s all I can do.

It’s the numbers’ game.

 

Accepted.

Appreciated.

Sharing more than a story.

It’s all I can do.

This is my game.

 

I am human.

Unique. Curious. Ardent.

No equivalent.

Not even a copy.

This is my game.

 

Desire, heard.

Passion, heeded.

Pleads, voiced.

Hopes, empowered.

This is my game.

 

It’s a digit.

It’s merely a trite.

There’s more I can achieve.

There’s more they can see.

This is my game.

 

It’s defining.

The conviction builds and rises.

The faith grows. The certainty takes root.

The persistence. The confidence.  The achievement.

This is my game.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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