It’s the game of death, with me.
And you’re ready to play, ready to die.
The breath burning your sweat,
the roar rattling your bones,
yet you come to fight,
yet you come to die.
My first swing breaks your jaw,
your mouth bleeding, my eyes gleaming.
The left jab is too fast for you,
you need to learn, to stand up again.
There comes the next, shoulder running miles,
powerful fists swinging, menacing strides along.
When I ducked, and he didn't,
that was last I saw his face.
Next comes the fast one, kicks flying.
Getting me square on the temple.
I get up fast, I don't give up.
It's not going to be an easy one.
The right hook reaches no more than my elbow,
the following slash, just swinging wild.
you need more time to get it right,
there ain't no testing when you fight.
The axe comes crushing on his skull,
the quick jab letting some sweet blood.
The crushing swing hits the solar plexus,
you don't fight with me na pa reflexes.
Three down now, how many more to go.
I'm not tired, I'm ready to plow.
The sweat and the blood and the flesh,
what a strange funny world this is.
This one seems to be more mature,
eyes darting sharp, torso twisting on toes.
Crouching for the kill, the perfect side,
I'm out of breath, blood down to taste.
But I don't give up, I don't quit,
I buy my time dodging the kicks.
A sweep of the feet and he reads it,
but the triple hooks keep him at bay.
I got to think fast, it's a fight.
There's no mistakes, there's no mercy.
What can bring this old leopard down,
to hunt my prey, to play my game.
There are times you need divine touch,
the ones that come deep from your soul.
I leap in the air, swirling on my arm,
my legs now high, I'm upside down.
A lightning twist, pivoting on my palm,
the right foot out, to hit the base,
the kick crosses over his perfect stance,
the leopard is down, smashed on his face.
What a fine fighter he has been
and what a pity he is no more,
tough men are very rare to see,
and they're the most thrilling to beat.
The last man standing, real test of time,
his walk is good enough to frighten many.
The 6 feet 11 mass of flesh stretching,
the crudest form of the devil's messenger.
My pulse quickens, my nerves are burning,
my heart soon overlapping the clock needle.
This thing's dangerous, no room to play,
am I giving up, am I going to die.
Some fight for ego, some fight for revenge,
some fight for truth, and sometimes for peace.
Every fight seems to have a reason,
what am I fighting for, I know.
The searing pain through my chest and neck,
his steel toes writhing like hungry robots,
this can't go on, I won’t stand long,
it is evident, the best will win.
I muster all my strength, one last time,
ready to fight, ready to fall,
a slap with my fingers, to his ears,
a snap on the knee starts the tumble.
I swiftly turn to elbow his nose,
my fists crash down his chiseled chest,
a wild jab, cutting bright red lines,
the blossom of blood across his metallic face.
But the giant rises, lashing back mad,
a full roundhouse to silence his snarl.
But he keeps plucking, an annoying whine,
its getting late, now comes wrap up time.
Our eyes deadlock for a thousandth second,
37 inches from a fiery glare.
I say goodbye to my brave friend,
and prepare to finally rest in peace.
A vertical jump, hips level to the face,
hands stretched out, legs curled to blow.
The right foot shears mightily through the air,
crashes into the jaws, breaking till the neck.
A yeti would have stood up again,
but there he lies, pounds of lifeless flesh.
He has served his purpose, so have I.
it all comes down to this revelation.
