Fight

It will cold smack you in the face 
No regard, no respect, just a hard, straight right
Now you're confused and staggered so you look to plead your case
But no one cares so you better learn how to fight

So put your 'dukes' up and start sticking and moving 
Did you think or could anyone think you would be a pugilist? 
A mobile punching bag receiving blow after blow but you ain't losing
You're standing in the big ring, showing your worth with powerful fists

In this ring, blows will accost you in the late-night hour
Rudely snatching your sleep and leaving ugly bags underneath your eyes 
The next day you're in a fog with no zest or power
Trying to find reason or reasons for your seeming demise

It will grab you and place you in a chokehold 
Just sucking the life from your chest
And cause you to spend lonely nights in a hospital where the corridors are cold
Even after you've been released and you return home, you soon find there is still no rest

So fight! Fight you must and will do
Endure round after round and pound after pound
When you stand in this ring, you must see it through 
Spectators are watching with prying eyes, just wondering if you will go down

Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.

Please Login to post a comment

Be the first to comment on this poem. Encourage this poet.