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WHERE IT ALL RHYMES
THE BOXER
The years tell hard upon his face
His distorted features for all to see
No second guess needed upon his trade
A violent, volatile history.
His leathered flesh, with untold scars
Each with tales for him to tell.
Reminders of almighty bouts
Adventures from his life of hell.
No longer needed, no longer fresh.
His youth left behind long ago
He feels the pains with every breath
A pain no one should ever know.
Laid out to pasture in the twilight of his years
He envies the youth his successors possess.
All he has now are stories of dreams,
His memories he can no longer repress.
Be wary, young soldiers, for you look at yourself
Every punch that you take heeds a price that is high
Gladiators will come, broken soldiers will fall,
As they lay on the canvas and gaze to the sky.
Ask the old man his verdict on the life that he chose
From a boy cleaning lockers to a champion he rose
Then give him the choice, as he whinces with pain.
Guaranteed the old soldier would do it all over again.
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