Durant’s Remorse

It comes…

There it goes.

You thought it was going to be longer, huh?

Practice since a youngster,

Putting up numbers.

The evening wonder,

Mantelpiece plunder,

Game-time for Thunder—what was that for?

Alone with yourself,

you know the struggle dealt.

But do not belch from the butt of misfortune.

“I will show them!” The eyes are fond of the poster and heard fortune. Something of a Warriors curse? Can you remember that me, now? Me with an aggressive freestyle that makes the crowd stand loud. The caster’s smile while the globe was in my hand. One—two, the Achilles rupture—so close to basketball trinity. No matter!

Can you see, I have two rings!

Look at this,

No kiss.

Just watch the glisten.

My mind is amuck. If you could hear the words inside me, you would listen. Forgive, no. I want you to forget. Now, this? You are against me.

I can never win.

What about him?

Has he not lost his whim?

“Ay, you know once there is a GOAT, the challenge is hard to be the latest.”

“See, he complains too. Turn the guns and point them in his view!”

You do not care! I hate the shine!

You know that, right?

Caught in the shadow,

I will show my might!

Easy, relax. I found my path. I got a pal and a friend; I will shut everybody up. Now, come on, again, a hampered hammy and a pampered ankle. I did enough, so what!

Applause, I think, a little much. I mean, the guy is still my half. You know, if I had two, ha, just one, the rest of the league would have bent the knee and had raised me to cut the Nets.

For now, watch what the next will be.

Watch me shoot and hear the nets beg plea.

I have been doing this for you

That much is true.

“Well, come back in gold.

The rest we will see.”

Really?

“It is a start.”

Ok, this is my team. You know it reminds me of the days at Chesapeake. The up-and-comer, the young and the Westless, still not Hardened, the nights up till dawning. The days went by—I still remember.

You know,

I think, I know, I was the between of recent memory: the CP-zero and the Giannis love of one. That was my future at that time. It was the teeter between fall asleep in history or the adornment for having done—but just one? I could not take the chance; LeBron James had three, Kobe Bryant five, and Michael Jordan six. The game of rings—nothing is free.

There was your problem. Legacy is a blip for most. You had love, the thing you love most; instead, you chose the easy path, fortune by infamy.

So, you got two, what have you done for us lately?

Cult of personality.

Hey, that was then, and this is now. I am better, more complete. Now is my stage, my team, and we are down 0-1. I am going to bite gold. Just watch—please.

“Huh, that is the representative of my team. I do not know if you can steal my heart again, my fortress is high, but if ever there is a secret passage this Olympics could be, I surmise.”

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