The lights, they blind inside the circle squared. The unseen masses in the outside world roar for blood and beg for more. The dancing duel continues; the combatants, unaware inside their chaotic world, lash out with blows to down the enemy; Then hug for safety in the storm. The blows come down with a crimson howl to (damage) (defeat) (demoralize) win the heated match. The blows connect, then dance away, in search of other holes. Through ballooning eyes and a haze of red they watch for the next advantage till one goes down in utter (release) (freedom) (oblivion) defeat, unable to continue the dance of death And the other raises his arms in victory, With only the loss of brain cells to hinder them, Go on train for the next Boxing Match. ***
Reason for writing:
I write poetry, mostly bad, to express how I feel about something
Or, as in this piece, to try and get across an experience to
someone who hasn't experienced it. I boxed in the army, and
this is pretty much what it is like. I also consider it my
best work ( which might give you a clue as to how bad my stuff
really is. Enjoy!
Birth sign: Not entered
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