My Goat

This poem is about a Lionel Messi fanatic and his experience being a staunch supporter of him and in between rendering an eulogy to him.

Finally, my GOAT gets another chance.
Birthed with love in the ghetto where survival was foremost,
Our world very slowly made no sense, but football kept us sane and bound us most,
I saw and read old sports newspapers newly designed by rats,
While they all splattered around every corner in pieces and parts,
With different photos of players posing with the world cup trophy in style,
I tried to figure them out. One name was Ronaldinho, another Pele, and another was Maradona,
Our black and white television showed its clips, but none appealed to my sight,
Good players, they always played with everything they had,
But the first day I watched the little boy from Rosario play a match,
I said that was it; I found my GOAT, my hero, my man,
He was everything from good to super no; he was simply magical,
Many say he is not ordinary, maybe a god or maybe half God, half man,
Indescribable for me, I could less than agree he was a superman or a god from the human clan,
A little glimpse of him here and there always made me hunger for more like twisted Oliver,
So when my feet were strong enough to walk, I soon saw myself hanging on,
From game house to punting shop to news stall,
Arguing against every single soul who didn’t see him as a blessing to mankind's generation
Sometimes those argument have led to a free fight for all, and I have seen myself beaten to a pulp
But still, I have defended him still on and on like a sterling patriot,
But when the topic does Messi even have a world cup comes on,
Then my mouth goes mute, and my tongue stays glued,
He has been there once almost won, I would be tempted to retort,
But my mind tells me there is nothing like almost, so I coincide my pride and clip my bagging rights,
But this year brings another chance for him to reclaim his right our right, will he or will he not?

@SlymjoshCreàtivès