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ian-steelePoems
The Boxer stands alone tonight. There are no crowds to cheer him on. There are no opportunities to pass him by. The Boxer stands alone tonight. His head is bowed, no longer strong. His heart no longer knows what's right. The Boxer stands alone tonight. He can't remember for how long. He can't remember what it felt like to live        carry on                   to be strong                                     to fight. The Boxer stands alone tonight. There is no one here to hear him cry, alone in the ring, as baroque music flies through the air; through his soul, and at last lets him sleep. There is not a soul left there that cares to cheer him on; When he passes, there is no one left that deigns to weep.
0
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 10:27 PM UTC
The Boxer
The Boxer stands alone tonight. There are no crowds to cheer him on. There are no opportunities to pass him by. The Boxer stands alone tonight. His head is bowed, no longer strong. His heart no longer knows what's right. The Boxer stands alone tonight. He can't remember for how long. He can't remember what it felt like to live        carry on                   to be strong                                     to fight. The Boxer stands alone tonight. There is no one here to hear him cry, alone in the ring, as baroque music flies through the air; through his soul, and at last lets him sleep. There is not a soul left there that cares to cheer him on; When he passes, there is no one left that deigns to weep.
When life gets tough, sometimes the tough get going only to subsequently break down like the flawed human beings they are.
#sad#pain#death#alone#sleep#music#memory#release#boxer
ian-steele
Written by
ian-steele
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 10:27 PM UTC
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