To the man who deserves love…

His match is always exciting,
How he fights to breathe,
How he fights not to stumble,
How he fights for the team,
And how he fights for himself.

His match is always mindboggling,
When everyone thinks three minutes
Is his limit,
He enters golden score,
Fighting with all his might,
For ten more minutes,
Fighting with himself.
He is taken aback by the sudden,
Interest in him,

Is it regret?
Or lingering attachment from the young him?
Yet, everyone seems genuine in his eyes,
They tear up for his matches.
Gold medal is never his goal,
But standing on the mat,

It reaches out for him,
For he who still has lingering thoughts,
And long for it,
For he who is always shining,
On the mats and the stages.

"a literature idiot with trashy writing style,"
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