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Rob Thompson Jun 2014
The hammer hits and the bell chimes go,
Any fear you hide, choke back, don’t show.
You take a swing and hit the air,
Await the fate of pain too bear.
The punch you take square on the chin,
Ache stabbing you again and again.
You stagger back and spring on the ropes,
You hit the mat as the ref counts away your hopes.
The lights grow dime and the voices faint,
A count of ten will seal your fate.
Yet a voice from long ago says, “Up on your feet”!
“You can lay there and bleed or face the heat”!
Standing you take blow after blow,
Telling yourself “Be patient they‘ll reap what they sow”
A swing and a miss you take the cue,
Unleashing all the hurt you ever knew.
All the anger and all the pain are balled up in your fists of rage,
Each punch you land releases the beasts from their cage.
The foe falls down and you await the count,
Eight, Nine, Ten you scream and shout!
The demons are slayed you've laid them to rest,
You've given your all and did your best.
You did what was needed and gave your all,
This time the hero didn't take…The Fall!

— The End —