Poem

Why the fuck can’t I give up my fight dream, I can visualize myself walking out to fight with my image up on a big screen,

 For years I fought for years injured, still the dream lingered,

For years and years, I faced my fears, I heard the cheers, but setbacks and reality soon sunk in,

 Like the thousands of punches from all the fights I been in.

 I feel like I been burned, I want to make somebody pay for all the lessons I’ve learned

Been fucking around everywhere like a clown, kind of a joke,  

Now want to go out with a win in my hometown, and end on a good note,

 Asking myself should just stick to being a writer and type? With dreams higher than a kite.

 I’m a fighter thirsting for the hype, like a drunk thirsting for a pint,

No different than someone struggling with a lighter and pipe,

I’m telling myself to stay in school and forge a new path, have a family, live, love and laugh.

But feel like I can’t have the best of both worlds, and only time will tell if thing work out well.

But I don’t need a fight date; I already have enough on my plate.

Everyday I’m fighting a battle against my toughest adversary,

Me.