The breeze is on my back, through the window,
From the sky.
Writing this to while away the time,
Better than nothing.
Being used to pen without intoxication
Has not come about,
My words are clumsy.
My life is nicer, the trade-off.
My career may be over but at least I'm happy.
Talk of nickel backs and I-formation
Comes at me from my right side, funny voices
Meant for little boys and hero worship.
The running back almost broke free.
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