As a junior tearing my ACL, I was given false hope

I was sidelined not just from sports but from my life 

I was stuck while the world kept moving

 

“At least you’ll have next year,” I reminded myself 

But my volleyball shoes are still stored away, collecting dust 

My knee pads are lost in my closet 

My sport-bag used only for travel 

 

“At least you'll have next year,” I thought 

My mitt clean from no play time

Constantly asked if I’m a manager or player 

My #4 jersey given to an underclassman full of next years

 

“At least you’ll  have next year.” 

A phrase full of lies 

I was so naive to believe 

Six scars across my knee to remind me how gullible I was