The Phillies

I, a Fourth Generation Phillies Fan
Sit in the darkness of my room; listen
To the sounds of the TV. My friend hates
Me in that moment; I am bitter. Sleep
Doesn't come easy. For my friend hates me.
I hear it in his voice; I see it. Stained
Is my voice to his ears, and he and my
Family watch the Phillies. Bryce Harper hits
A walk off home run. I feel no joy. For
I offended him, just like my mother
Was offended by the truths I uttered.
I cannot but speak the truth, and now I,
Seeing my team have the year I prayed for,
Cannot enjoy it; my heart's bitterness
For those I love and their hatred at my
Words---where does it come from? I do not know.
My life is like this season of Baseball;
Triumphant Highs, Magnificent lows. All
Is torn assunder in my wretched
Heart. Bryce is worth thirty million dollars.
Yet, am I? I do not know, for what I
Love is my family and friends, and country;
So I sit in darkness, solitude; Wait
Yet the age's wisdom is the trophy
Goes to thieves, the robbers, the murderers.
Maybe a thief had joy in the ballgame
But even if there were joy in it, I
Sit nearly in tears---I wonder about
My vision, my righteousness; I sometimes
Wonder if the Earth were flat; I don’t know.
All I know is this, that I listen to
The sage today, after emailing
Him, and I find my prophecies foolish.
Yet, there is a peace. Though I am scolded 
For having the prescience to see futures
And to know the dark course society
Goes, I know this is what the Gospel preached.