Seven days in Loughbrough,
just to make us tougher,
had me comtemplating suicide.
Loughbrough suicide. With
no place to hide.

I thought about it
driving down in the rain,
about the stressful pain
and the sitting in vain of a hotel bar
sipping J20 hell, confining to my
bedroom cell.

It's true we don't always
see eye to eye, but we try to
share views. Locking horns,
everyone addorns their armour
as ideas bomb through the air
desperate to penertrate.

Together we come,
working in gritty green
fields, throwing wood, carbon
and steel. It doesn't always make
us feel good, but we do it to stay infront
of the world.

Our strategies to compete
differ,
while our reactions to defeat are met
with a
bitter taste. Trying to do our best with
to much haste.

What a waste.