Super Bowl Bound

Depression has darkened Denver like a shroud;
icy feelings of mile-high fans abide without alibi.
Football ceased suddenly, like an adamant brush-off.
Fierce was Seattle, much like some hungry werewolf;
elation in one city, in another sadness, emptiness, ire.
Revelry relented to stinging disappointment, a tear,
each avid fan morose, weeping jointly or in solitude.
Now a season is abruptly over, concluding sans win;
tails tucked, heads bowed, Denver spanked and spent.

Disappointment profanes, blasphemes the spirit world.
Acid galls atmospheres via strained and tired trachea.
Reason wonders why such humanly outbursts occur;
kinship with anger control a conspicuously lost link.
Enough let downs coincided to form a crop circle.
Reality is crushed hopes, as well as bets over beer.
Kickoff to bitterness, to down, to chagrin on deck,
it stays a bane, simple and basic as the value of pi.
Needful it still remains, this vicarious nature of man,
demonstrated by emotions carelessly cast overboard,
openly oblivious to what any lack of floatation can do,
flippant as an uncaring acrobat on a precipitous roof.

Rabid was one who gambled incautiously, without fear;
easily distraught is the average fan when the loss is sure.
Gone, like dreams, were thousands--debt is now abiding.
Riffs have formed within the family, his pace of life a blur.
Even friends have turned away, and disdain is like a blade:
This was a different, darker kind of disappointment.

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