All we want is the trophy, a golden cup,
the thing that unlocks pure joy, makes you want to hop,
bring home the bacon, make those balloons pop,
we're here to celebrate,
bring out the red cup,
I see triumph, I see goals,
everyone is happy and that's the official goal,
get dizzy, get drunk, get everything out from the trunk,
the booze is our friend tonight, let's watch the fire while sitting on a wooden plank,
It all started because of us,
and here's the fruit of our labor,
our savory soup,
boiled for a long period of time,
ringless in the basket, a perfect shot in the hoop,
Small winnings are also worthy of celebration,
this is a short appreciation of staying with me,
starting from the creation, until the end of this station,
this isn't popular, this isn't a sensation,
but a pure shot of the thing we call passion.
YOU ARE READING
Pen - pen: Disarm my Pain
PoetryA poetry of insanity •I know you're reading this for fun, but it isn't Fun at all• Highest Rank: #1 in poetry - September 2021 #2 in poetry - January 2020
