The time for words had passed
I don't even remember
what was said.
Who said it?
Hold up, hold back,
too late now.

My weight holding him down.
His throat griped tightly between my hands.
My mind grasping blindly from the hate.
What now, what next,
I've crossed a line.

The hate that made a handle
of my opponent's larynx
is muddied.
Muddled with guilt but strengthened by fear.
Let go, let loose,
the fight has left him.

Yet still I hold,
fearing more the next opponent I face.