Poetry: “Concussed” (A work in progress)

Concussed in the dust

To the arena was bussed

Every game his shirts and pads were soiled with crust

When he hurt opponents his fans were filled with lust

With every exertion with sweat his hair was mussed

With injuries, aches and pains he sometimes had some pus

In his final game to an ambulance his body it was rushed

And at that time all spectators there were completely hushed… (tbc?)

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