MusingsPoetry

The Last Me

I’m torn beyond stitching,
in shreds and twitching.
My eyes, red and itching
from blows and ditching.

In pieces and floating in tears,
I’m crushed in my fears.
My pain, a pruning shear
left me with damn to bear.

Yes, I am down.
I’m left without a crown.
My brow, amazing frown.
I’m a loser, the talk of the town.

Though I lay rough,
a metal facing slough.
I’ll say, “Enough is enough”,
because I’m built tough.

Then shall the last me appear,
courageous and dead to fear.
The last me none has ever seen,
shall strike more than fifteen.

I’m not tapping out
because I have no doubt.
Don’t think I’m dead,
because you struck my head.

I’m built for the ring.
I’ll fight till I’m king.
The last me I’ll bring,
to give the finishing sting.

Powerless, I lay
but ruthless I slay.
Underestimate me today
and see the last me in display.

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