The Fight

Battered and bruised, I lie on the sand,

My body aching from the tips of my toes to the tips of my hand.

Writhing in agony, on the ground,

To listen to my cries, there is no one around.

My face down, my tongue tasting the dirt,

Swallowing the relentless and unsparing hurt.

A parched throat trying to scream out in pain,

All of it seems to go in vain.

Having faced Life’s kicks, punches and blows,

Having been at the receiving end of whatever it has to throw.

Yet, it doesn’t spare me the taunts and jeers,

While I am struggling to hold back my tears.

Into submission, me, it continues to hit and beat,

Spare me the humiliation, I want to forfeit.

But then a voice from nowhere I can hear,

Telling me that the fight is still not over.

So long as there is breathe in my body and blood in my veins,

You will see a foe whom you have not yet slain.

Every ounce of strength, struggling to find,

To Life’s sheer muscular strength, turning an eye blind.

My frail, fractured palms, pushing the ground beneath,

My mouth gritting my cracked teeth.

Groggy, I get up, my feet struggling to find their pace,

Facing Life with an injured, bloody face.

Lunging forward, we grapple,

The last round begins with a struggle.

Which will end, when we know, the die has been cast,

Till one of us breathes our last.

“Remember..no matter how much it hurts right now, one day you’ll look back and realize it made you stronger.”