First, a poem:
The Struggle of the Unfulfilled
College basketball is meaningless
It should have no impact on my life
Yet college basketball is ruthless
It leaves me in a pile of strife
As shots don't fall, and calls aren't made
And dreams are cast aside
By branded teams that've always played
in postseasons; I feel sick inside
But the band plays on, so they say
The world turns, not falling out of bounds
Soon this loss will be yesterday,
And soon I'll be watching the First Round
Wondering what glories might have been
If my team could somehow win
The thing about hope is that no matter how hard you try to suppress it, hope has a way of breaking through the void and entering the consciousness.