Matthew Holloway
Cheshire, England
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The Fighter

The bells rings once more
Echoes through the ears, years
The fighter rises from the corner
Cracks the neck and shakes down
The body, muscles, soul, mind aches
The last few rounds have been brutal
A true beating delivered to the fighter
The taste of the ground, canvas
Bitter upon the tongue, blood salt
The anguish stirs in questions within
To give up, surrender, throw in the towel
It would be easier than the fight
Shorter and less painful perhaps
But that is not the way, never
That is not the answer, ever
The fight goes on, always
Fists clenched, teeth gritted
The fighter steps forward
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