Thriller (an acrostic poem)

Tearing his shirt, Donald looked on with disbelief

His beloved Chicago Cubs had just given up a three run lead in the eighth inning

Reason fled and the fear of the curse gripped him hard

Instead of a celebratory beer, the bitter taste of hops overwhelmed

Looking away from the game, Donald wondered how much he could take

Leaving the television on, he went to the bathroom

Every beat of his heart echoed in his ears, but the anxiety began to relent a bit

Ready once again he headed in to see history being made, one way or another.

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