Like Chimney I was contemplating this for the comp, but it’s way too long so I’ll have to write something more concise. Anyways… here is, ‘the fight’
Crowds have a certain power to them.
The power to give power essentially,
and so consequentially,
the power to take that power away.
And so I thought, as I sat there on that day,
I was alone, and really…with nothing to say.
But yell so I did, with the rest of the crowd;
some met the ground, some took a bow.
The event was a fight, or rather - a series.
A series of hits, and knock out type injuries.
Femurs and jawbones, blood sweat and teeth.
Screams and groans, cyclones of fists
for the man underneath.
Then came a fighter who gave me a fright,
he wasn’t a fighter, but a killer by right.
He was alone, no trainer no friends;
this man was death - emotion’s end.
“Submitted for the fight, and the underground crowd!
Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you ‘Kerpal’.”
His first opponant was good, I’d seen him before.
He took one swing, then he wasn’t alive anymore.
The crowd was shocked, and then they erupted.
Deaths wern’t all that common, and so they corrupted.
The second fighter was reserved, but so was his fate.
Visible fear, as he faced something great.
He danced round the ring, avoiding Kerpal,
till death leap stroke out, shattering his nasal canal
With the amount of blood lost, and the loss of his sight.
The second man was declared, the loser of the fight.
Something was off, this wasn’t a fight;
still though, they watched,
'twas their reason at this site.
Man after man, the crowd saw the pain.
Some got up, some would never get up pagain.
By now it was silent, all bets were off.
Some women were crying, a few men coughed.
The last man was huge, massive but trained;
incredible strength, cerebrally restrained.
He was the only one left, to the impossible prize.
Named ‘The Butler’, his demeanor was tough
This was who fought, when the owner’s had enough
He approached Kerpal carefully,
hiding his debts behind his face,
unfortunately for this man,
he was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
The big man was smart, he knew Kerpal’s type
so he finally pounced to receive a broken windpipe.
He writhed on the ground, unable to breath;
with another punch Kerpal killed him,
to put him at ease.
He turned to the crowd, to hold up one hand.
“My payment in full”
was his only demand.
) which was here: