the blood
of the fight is on the canvas.
the skin
split over
eyes and lips,
the rising of dark lumps,
a cracked tooth,
a bent bone.
the crowd roars
at unconsciousness.
it's what they paid for.
what they
came to see. men
and women
searching within for
some kind
of relevance, a strange
sort of peace.
Monday, March 14, 2016
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