Bobbing and weaving,
Slipping and jabbing.
The fighting stance against a thousand opponents,
All of whom, look like me,
Is a stance I can only articulate,
In a mirror,
Shadow boxing that guy,
Strangely looking like me.
Pop-Pop BANG,
I throw punches at the air in front of me,
This bull can rage like Cinderella in a cage,
A square, roped cage,
Where life’s uppercuts put me in a daze.
The fighter in me,
One stubborn little *******,
Iron-jawed and iron-clawed,
Always taking one to the gut,
I fall down and so ruthlessly get back up.
24 and 0,
I’m the undefeated world champion,
My opponent remains consistent,
But I’m not afraid,
I got this far,
You think I can’t go a few more rounds?
In Corrections, they used to say “Stay in the fight,” when it came to enduring the strenuous work hours and horrible conditions. Guess I applied those words to my every day life.
