I gathered my boxing gloves
14 oz each they grappled my hands
I stand aside a punching bag
hanging down from the ceiling
it presented a punchless opponent
it mattered little though
I was fighting a battle unfair
Something I couldn't hit
Debilitating mental pathways
Like getting knocked out in the ring
I stumbled to find the first punch
The flow was thorough although
Jab, jab, cross, jab, uppercut
I asked all the right questions
to fuel my anger, to fuel the desire
The punching bag stood no chance
Though its job well done indeed
The demons too felt my bruising
The shame of it all
Is that the demons are me
I only hurt myself
Day by day the black eyes of life
Only diminish years at the tail end
26 going on 46, ever so true

02/12/2006

Author's Note: *Archive - A really good one in my opinion.

Posted on 05/16/2007
Copyright © 2025 Jeffrey Parren