Originally Posted by New World Order:
We need some kind of creative poem
In the arena where dreams and giants clash,
Where glory weaves in a furious flash,
One name echoed, a tale to be told,
Jawaan, a warrior, yet dreams turned cold.
Heavy hangs the crown of the gridiron,
Talents flourish, but stakes are higher,
Once a beacon, now a burden felt,
In shadows where cheers and whispers melt.
The weight of the armor, a double-edged blade,
Over time, a warrior’s form begins to fade,
Crimson and gold, dreams woven tight,
Yet every misstep steals the light.
Penalties whisper in the night,
A tapestry marred by fateful blight,
Each flag thrown, a silent scream,
Hope tethered to a fraying seam.
Chiefs stand proud, the banner flies high,
In unity forged as the seasons sigh,
Yet in each huddle, the truth rings clear,
A call for focus, a shift in gear.
So here’s to futures where strength aligns,
Where passion ignites and potential shines,
If the bench is the stage for a rebirth to start,
Let it be a forge for a resilient heart.
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