Heaviness buries a thoughtful heart,
clenching fists like storm ridden skies.
Emotionless here, this place of pain,
passionate destruction within his eyes.
Each bloodied knuckle sinking deeper,
the audience praise their warrior king.
Silence before the roar of his vigor,
punishment from the precision swing.
Even death fears his bestial chant,
immortalized through the sacred rule.
His mind embracing inner strength,
the body he carries remains a tool.
Fourteen bones are surely broken,
hundreds of muscles bruised far worse.
Writhing agony creeps upon shoulders,
enduring battle is forever his curse.
Copyright © Marcello Colasurdo