Fighting his demons he obtained many scars. Scars of victory. Fighting his enemies he triumphed. All he knew was fighting. Fighting the voices, the anger, the anxiety. Fighting the inevitable. The rewards always worth it. Always believing it was over and then another fight. After many lesson learned he tried and tried to do the right thing. To be the better, stronger person he knew he could be. Life kept wearing him down but he hung on. He swung bag, even if he didnt connect. He wanted the world to know he didnt have any quit in him.
Many times there would be several opponents surrounding, closing in and attacking at once. He couldnt breathe, see, think or act rational. He did what he could to survive. He did what he needed and limped away with bruises, lesions and burn marks on his soul. He tried everything. Prayer, meditation, excersize, forgiveness. Still he was struck down. He kept moving forward, against the wind. against the grain.
I saw him today. tired, morose, sullen. defeated. he made the mistake of looking up. He finally saw that there was no end. He should have kept his head down and kept pushing adversity. The look of despair was foreign. lost, dead inside. He picked up some dirt and let it run through his fingers. He turned and watched it disappear into the air. He then did the same. He just walked away. Never to be seen again.
