The Player

I swung with all of my might,
barely missing the soft supple leather of the baseball.

Again I swung
to try to stop thinking of what my life had become, if only for a second.
Another swing another miss
Another swing to rid my mind of hall of these burdens of life;
My job,
My kids,
My mirage.

I swung until my tears were brought fourth,
my arms acting as pumps propelling the tears up and out.
Until sweat ran down my back and chest in great waterfalls

Eternally missing, I drop to my knees.
I swung,
now bat less.
My arms spin like propellers on a helicopter, around and around.
Until, finally they kissed the ground,
immediately drawing blood. But in finding this new target, I also found a new way to stop the thoughts.
I swing arm after arm pounding the earth.

Stopping, only to find that a pool ruby red blood around a set of crumpled legs beneath me, staining the barren ground.
I pull my head out of the ground
like an ostrich, looking around, noticing all the surrounding people.
Closing my eyes I wish that all the people will go away
That I can be at home in bed.
And then I was.