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Stephen S
Poems
Feb 2019
The Fighter
I'm ******* in a submission hold,
my muscles feel the sting.
I'm straining from the agony,
and there's a blood spot in the ring.
If only I had thrown an elbow,
or better timed a kick.
Maybe a brutal roundhouse,
that I could pull off sharp and quick.
Yes, if this had gone differently,
I wouldn't be stuck here flat,
as the timer ticks on endlessly,
and I'm ground into the mat.
I'm as proud a fighter as they come,
this war has been heartfelt.
I could have given up three rounds ago,
but I really want that belt.
I grunt and groan and wrestle,
but my opponent doesn't sway.
Perhaps it's best I just tap out,
and fight another day.
Written by
Stephen S
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Juneau
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