This fight
is not
equal.
The rules change
along
your certainty.
“This is not a fight”,
it is not.
Sometimes
it’s a
race,
the fall in the abyss,
a piece of writing,
an apology
made
from your heart.
When you return,
you strike a blow
filled with
vengeance,
only to find
you tried
to hit
yourself.
You are alone
in the ring.
Look around,
look for the villain,
but you’re by yourself,
the stands are empty.
“Tomorrow there’s more”,
in another sport,
another setting,
until you find yourself
drained,
deprived of
life.
No one
knows yourself
as well
as you do.
