The Bullpen
Low and inside
My joints creak,
Muscles ache,
As I follow through.
The batter hits a line drive
Almost taking my head off.
I feel my era creeping up
It's not enough -
I'm losing my nerve.
My fastball's gone,
I can't bring the heat.
He got it on the sweet spot -
A hundred and one pitches in my head,
I just can't send 'em to my fingers... dead.
When you're over the hill
A broad range will
Keep you from the bench.
If I cry foul now, I'll drown -
Better work on that submarine pitch.
~Darkling Plain, Sept. 6, 2006
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