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The Fighter

Slowly, He raises his head to the crowd
Triumph: a look seldom seen upon the face
Defeat: a look never seen upon the face

Turn, Turn, Dodge, Jab

Blood on the mat,
What is that?!

A tooth, embedded in the glove of a champion.
Forever shall he reign.
King over all who follow his wide gait
The Ring Leader, in the truest of its uses

SMASH! Goes the fist,
Down goes the foe,
Da**, he is pi**ed!
What does he know?

Clang! Clang!

Round 12

Spit
Sip
Snort up the pain

Calm is the face of the one who can read through the sweat and blood
The word written on the belt that hangs in the hallowed halls of the mind

“VICTOR”

Push, shove
Bruise
Beat

Then the crowd is on their feet!

A hit to the jaw was all that it took


Down

Down

Down

Down

Fallen from the pedestal of fame and glory
And the prize shrinks from the sight lines,
As the once clear picture becomes fuzzy.
A distorted image of the one who has knocked down
He who never worked a day in his life
And had everything given on a silver platter

And, slowly, The Fighter,
In all his splendor
Raises his head,
Surveying the crowd

Those who believed are the ones who remain

The others are gone.

And he stays,
His place forever set at the table of gods

Like all those whose lives are memories that live on in the glory of the moment
The moment when the arm is raised, in victory





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