Punch Line Poem by Richard Jarboe

I heard a word that knocked me down,
Then a right cross broke my heart,
Then an upper cut, sorely felt,
Was a shot below the belt.

You went back to your neutral corner,
I staggered to my feet,
My peek-a-boo style no longe an option,
Thinking Hell, it's a repeat.

I get short on hopes,
Falling through the ropes,
With the coming division,
Of a split decision.

You got to get inside to mix it up,
Take the punishment if you can,
The whole scene is hit and miss,
Words hit hard to understand.

My brain's a punching bag,
With a glass jaw and gift to gab,
But don't count me out; it's not the end,
I'll be back before the count of ten.