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WHERE IT ALL RHYMES

THE BOXER

 

The years tell hard upon his face

His distorted features for all to see

No second guess needed upon his trade

A violent, volatile history.

 

His leathered flesh, with untold scars

Each with tales for him to tell.

Reminders of almighty bouts

Adventures from his life of hell.

 

No longer needed, no longer fresh.

His youth left behind long ago

He feels the pains with every breath

A pain no one should ever know.

 

Laid out to pasture in the twilight of his years

He envies the youth his successors possess.

All he has now are stories of dreams,

His memories he can no longer repress.

 

Be wary, young soldiers, for you look at yourself

Every punch that you take heeds a price that is high

Gladiators will come, broken soldiers will fall,

As they lay on the canvas and gaze to the sky.

 

Ask the old man his verdict on the life that he chose

From a boy cleaning lockers to a champion he rose

Then give him the choice, as he whinces with pain.

Guaranteed the old soldier would do it all over again.

 

 

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