The Good Fight Poem by Wesley Dante

The first battle was a battle well fought,
Full of pride, the second was not.
Blind with rage, I came in with the left,
Like a common broom with me he swept
The floor the ring and everything,
A beating so bad the angels did sing.

Tired and worn, I attacked once more
But to no avail, only scorn.
Wishful thinking was the furthest from thought,
As it was through such eyes his soul did wrought
Upon me fear and anger, fear and wonder,
Pride and laughter, strength and honor.

Starving for life yet striving for power,
Knees buckle; blood sour.
Face smashed; a broken thing,
But at fights end, I'll be king.

When every breath within me burns
Like the fire inside of thee,
My heart erupts; my fists explode...
Like mountains, from the sea.