POEM: Skin in the Game

skin in the game

The gods are at war
A blood sport for many
The spectators are plenty
Seeded at the rite and
Overlooking the arena
As bleachers whitewash
The stain power of the players
Announcers pooring over each play
Drunk with ail
And inuries listless
Over actors breaking a leg
Pundits pining sicks feat
A box that no won can think out of
Merely the latest stat
Wherever you melee
With the gods at war
Who is it that dares to worship
With flesh and bone
Opening themselves up
On to marrow
A gaping dawn
For mirror mortals
Wear all we have
Or have not
Is in vein
A standing oblation
Know truer thou art
Sow secure
The peril of great price
Who will sell awe?
And who will buy it?
When will we come together
Means
And ends
Omen of good cheer
Root for all!