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The Match I Lost Before It Began
The Match I Lost Before It Began
My squad stood firm, brimming with confidence,
Yet, within me, wavered an unsettling silence.
But then she arrived, a tempest unseen,
And I, ensnared, swayed from doubt to overween.
My confidence—once steadfast—drowned in night,
Yet she remained my beacon, my quiet delight.
Not of my team, nor by my side,
Still, I thought she stood as my guiding light.
From the moment my eyes first met
her grace,
I had lost the match before I embraced the race.
Was it her presence—a melody untold?
Or my own pride, reckless and bold?
I stood bewildered, trapped in the trance,
Unaware of fate's cruel dance.
Even today, the question lingers,
Why did I falter before lifting my fingers?
Was it her resonance—an echo divine?
Or the folly of overconfidence—solely mine?
