What Am I To Do?

Thu, 03/05/2015 - 16:38 -- atang18

My legs were giving out.

They felt so heavy while they pounded on the green turf.

They flexed over the 50 yard mark,

the 80 yard mark

and soon the 100 yard mark.

With exhaustion,

my legs bent awkwardly and

the rest of my body fell on top.

My lungs sucked eagerly while my mouth panted.

Gasping, I stood up, swinging my long ponytail.

The others were also panting 

and sweating through their own blue and white jerseys.

They watched my every move.

They had all finished earlier than I had.

Their masculine scent repelled my feminime odor.

I felt awkward as I was being watched by all of the boys.

I shifted my football jersey so that it didn't look so wrinkly

despite all the dirt.smudges on it. 

We bagan throwing and passing the leather football to each other.

Their curiosity was pressuring me to throw my best.

I arched my right arm back and 

threw it over my shoulder into the humid air.

I watched with satisfaction as my soon to be

team mates jumped up in to the air to retrieve it.

My chest swelled with pride.

It was the best throw that I'd ever done.

The grin faded from quickly from my face

when I heard a voice shout.

I whipped around and caught sight of my father

circling the field with his car.

I panicked. 

My heart thudded and face was burning.

He ran on to the field spitting.

He angrily grabbed my ponytail and

demanded what I was doing there.

The words that I was going to join the team

tumbled out of my mouth.

He whipped his head around

and saw who were my soon to be team mates.

Spitting mad,

he dragged me off the field.

My legs felt wobbly with nervousness.

I was forced to quit playing football.

My father banned me from playing with them

since they were all boys and I was the only girl.

My head hung with shame through the car ride home.

My dream and hope of being a part of the football team

was crushed. 

Withouth a dream to follow,

what am I to do?

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family
Our world
Guide that inspired this poem: 

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741