A poem I felt compelled to post here.

Sorry if it's a little corny.

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Through my bruises I seem weak

arms are dragging

head is flagging, it is looking bleak.

Bell rings, I’m still standing here.

Now the champion understands true fear.

In the ringing of the final bell

my gloves may not be the ones upheld

I still smile, standing right

I will make it through this fight.

sometimes victory is not our win

it’s in the way we survive.

In the darkest of the night

there’s feeling, scent in the air

of copper, and the fight.

Though my clip it feels too light.

Foes have circled us,

evacuation is just in sight.

When the final shot has rung,

the deadliest foe may not be hung.

But left in clearing, shouting as we’re pulled along.

Wave at him sinking down, on the ground

as we rise up where we belong.

I still smile, standing right

I will make it through this fight

Sometimes victory is not the win

It’s in the way we survive.

Nothings over yet.

As long as my lungs draw breath

The battle I’ll not neglect

I’ll keep standing,

stagger

wavering

but. I’ll. Not. Stop.

I still smile, standing right

I will make it through this fight

Sometimes victory is not the win

it’s in the way we survive.

And I will somehow still survive.

Through the darkest of the night,

I’ll be here standing in the morning light.

I will survive.