What worries me to death
Is what I'm growing into
Survived Round 1
Starting Round 2
Life's a lot like boxing
Giving hits, taking blows
You can't control your enemies
So whatever goes, goes
You can get beat down
Many times, never specific amount
Some get back ups & in
Some stay down for the count
Life's a series of rounds
To which you're bound
Someday you'll be found
But you have to make sound
Don't go through quiet
Get up, cause a riot
You'll gain your confidence
Or lose your consciousness
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Nice poem which adequately and poetically expresses the sentiment. 'Get up off your bottom and fight', or words to that effect. Best Steve