Challenge
Pick a sport, any sport. Write a poem, any poem.
Nephilim
Giants. Muscular masses of talent and brawn, they put their pads and helmets on. On cool fall nights, beneath the lights, these men, these gods, begin to fight. A game, they call it, but where's the fun in bleeding and breaking them one by one? Though, to the people in the bleachers, these men aren't men, they're mighty creatures.
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