Down For The Count

They were friends or so he thought,
until this night when he needed some help
there was no one to be found.
Typical behavior, he understood
for no one really cared about
this old beat up fighter.
He had run everybody off so many times
that now he was all alone
"well what the hell", he mumbled
under his breath
as he picked himself up from the
dirty floor that he had spent the night on.
Just like all the times he had been down
for the count or so it seemed
he always managed to get up right
before he was counted out.
For some reason this time was different,
he thought he had really made progress
with his social skills and that maybe someone
would be there to lend a hand.
"Oh well fuck it" he said, "who needs em
anyway", are the words
he had said a hundred times before
and now he was saying them again.
You see a fighter is alone in the ring,
there is no one holding him up when
he gets hit. It is through sheer strength
and fortitude along with years of training
that his body can take such devastating blows.
When the body can take no more punishment
it goes down, then it is only the mind
that can get it back up. A strong mind
wins more fights then most folks realize.
The mind of this old fighter was weary
and he had let himself get knocked down.
Not by an opponent in the ring with a heavy hand,
but from someone he had trusted
who punched him and left him to bleed
on this cold hard floor where he laid this night.
It was not a pretty sight, it never is.
Fighting to get through life is hard
and it takes its toll on the spirit of all
those whose lives are forced down that path
for whatever reason. He did not start out
as a fighter, but from years of getting the shit
beat out of him he became a worthy adversary.
Worthy of more respect then he was given
this particular night.

To be continued...

Robert
2015