He lost his mother when he was five. His little brother was two.
His father remarried five weeks later but he was no longer his father.
He was just a man he lived with in the same house.
A shadow, always hovering over the entire house with darkness
Filling even the spoons with melancholy.
No words were ever spoken between the two.
Perhaps because he looked like his mother.
Mostly, he had his mother's smile and he believes that is what made his father angry each time he looked at him.
His father never tickled him like other men did their young sons.
Nor did his father throw him up in the air like their neighbor Banda did with his boy.
He always thought that maybe his father hated him.
But, it is his smile that his father did not want to see. 
Because it reminded him of death, his wife's death.
And he chose to keep things that way. Dead.
His little brother died just after turning five.
He does not know what killed him.
Back then, anything could **** a child. Even the shadow of an angry father.
For it's cold wind would wrap around you and you would feel your heart go cold until the beat stopped 
Like the night drums at the village square.
He was only eight then and that is when he left home.
Home was no longer a place of comfort.
Home was a grave in which he lived, fearing that one day, someone would throw soil or a flower down at him and bid him adieu
And he would be forgotten like his mother and little brother whose names no one even bothered to whisper.
He never wanted to be forgotten. He wanted his name to mean something.
He too, wanted some one to look at his smile and lose their breath.
He wanted someone to hug him and hold him tight for the first time.
Most importantly, he wanted people to remember his name.
And so, he ran away. 
Never looking back to see how his home looked like.
Today, he waits in the locker room
Slowly wrapping the band-aid around his hand. 
Four times around his wrist, four times around his knuckles, through his fingers, twice around his knuckles again and finally twice around his wrists.
He does this as he nods to "Many Men" playing in the background
A song that has been his anthem since he ran away from home
Each word from the song tattooed on the walls of his blood vessels.
A blood covenant to remind him of his dark past and the hope of a future filled with sunshine.
He is a fighter now and today, he takes on the reigning champion.
The one who just left jail after battering his wife.
His journey to this moment has been uphill.
Like Atlas, he has always carried his world on his shoulders 
Never putting the burden down for only he understands the pain of the weight.
But he wants his punches today to mean something
to cause immeasurable pain to his opponent
and maybe break his jaw partly as retribution for his opponent's wife.
He takes three deep breaths as he hears his name being called out in the arena
A sign that the hour has come.
Unlike his previous fights, tonight he walks out to the ring in silence
Listening to no music but the shrill cries of the ghosts from his dark past
Confident that they will all fall silent in the fifth round when his opponent hits the canvas.