The Wrestler Poem by Arta Krasniqi
The Wrestler
He fought life
With bare fists
His bones
Knew the taste
Of scars and cuts
The way blood
Knows its way
And the world
Was a cage
And life was
A professional
Deadly
Merciless
Wrestler and
People came
And watched him
Get knocked out
Beaten to death
And they would still
Cheer for life
But his bruises
Made him stronger
And he always, always
Stood up!
Thursday, July 16, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: life
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4/16/2024 8:55:42 AM # 1.0.0.1119
