Five swords were down,
Out of those eleven.
Entered he the pitch,
As the clock struck seven.
The ball played tricks,
Still he hit those sixes.
Safe shots, clean shots,
Away from all mixes.
"I may be bleeding,
But I'm not dead yet."
Roared every heart,
Keep going ahead.
Knocking ball out of the park,
Bringing back from the dark.
Not a beautiful ball,
But an unresponded call,
Gave that major fall.
A man not bound by kin,
A man who played for a win.
Passion found life,
Let the words flow,
No reaction denied,
A frustration justified.
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