I look to myself for management
like a football team
who’s fans scream for their cup dream
I am in the depths of relegation instead
fans dreams are dead.
I fight disturbed sleep
waking up from bad dreams
screaming booing my own game
and the shame of losing
I am bruising
going into battle like a worn out team of veteran players
I am in need of better management and encouragement and prayers
not a self talk that swears
schizophrenia and autism a toxic mix
and sometimes I cannot help but feel like a dick
another penalty going against me
I withdraw to the stands
the best laid plans
of a team with high hopes and dreams
but I keep screwing up my own team.
I am too inconsistent
Middle table in the conference is too high an expectation
when I meet my friends like fans they don’t understand
and give me a frosty reception.
Give me back my dreams
of being a winning football team
putting four past the opposition
That’s my metaphor and my disposition.