The Punching Bag Poem by Kondwani Simwaba

The Punching bag
These days I feel like a punching bag; life is Muhammad Ali if I dare use clay to mold myself, it takes a swing at me.
It seems the closer I get to the final round the more jabs I receive; leaving me like a tripod, trynna stand on two legs.
I swear I just wanna find my way across this ring; but if I dare stray far from these rops an uppercut might just introduce me to gravity.
It's like every smile is an exposure of my teeth; leaving them susceptible to loss by a right hook that would inturn leave me feeling like a lalluby.
I swear these hands aren't even a challenge; I just wanna shield my face but this life still feels rocky and I just wanna find a soft spot on which to lay my head like Balboa.
These days I feel like a punching bag; life is like Tyson always biting on my creed, causing the nimbus in my eyes to pour rain disregarding the may weather.
Nowadays I really feel like the MGM; because when the lights are out, then I am left without any action.
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