BRUTALANIMUS

He was a brute, there is no denying that
A muscular giant, and violence as a reflex
Perceived weakness always was the trigger
His sense of pride couldn’t get any bigger
With biceps the size of most others’ necks
But in time, most of it would turn to fat

In some circles, he’s thought to be a hero
Striding about, forever flexing his muscles
Just eagerly waiting for a fight break out
Emerging triumphant after the first bout
Always so keen to join in all those tussles
Yet in terms of intellect, so close to zero

He seemed to like inflicting hurt and pain
But in every scrap it was always one sided
His being strong and ready to take the hit
Yet never seemed to flinch even a little bit
It was only by winning that he was guided
Ready to re-engage, over again and again

Despite a grin and a body as hard as steel
And impervious to all the blood and gore
They said he had a weakness, well hidden
Like a horse gone lame after being ridden
Underneath those leather boots he wore
Perhaps after all, he had an Achilles’ heel