In my hand I hold a ball.... white and dimpled, rather small....
Oh , how bland it does appear.... this harmless looking little sphere.
By its size I could not guess.... the awesome strength it does possess....
But since I fell beneath its spell.... I've wandered through the fires of hell.
My life has not been quite the same.... Since I chose to play this stupid game....
It rules my mind for hours on end... A fortune it has made me spend.
It has made me swear and yell and cry.... I hate myself and want to die....
It promises a thing called par.... If I can hit straight and far.
To master such a tiny ball ... should not be very hard at all …
But my desires the ball refuses.... and does exactly like it chooses.
It hooks and slices, dribbles and dies.... and even disappears before my eyes....
Often it will take a whim.... to hit a tree or take a swim.
With miles of grass on which to land.... it finds a tiny patch of sand....
Then has me offering up my soul.... if only it would find the hole.. ..
It's made me whimper like a pup. ...and swear that I will give it up....
And take a drink to ease my sorrow.... but the ball knows.....
I'll be back tomorrow!!!!
