The way we found him,
I’m pretty sure that’s not what he wanted us to see.
His blood was running like a confession from his nose,
trying to feed some emptying reservoir.
There was a chance this was a cry for help,
but most likely
by this time his voice had become horse,
and all his shouting had amounted to nothing more than
eyes balling his,
and blank expressions from people he wanted to be caught by.
When you’ve explained all your arguments
and found no competitor,
unfortunately,
you will have to admit that you’re right.
It’s an ugly fight when you’re stood bloody faced
in the corner of a ring
you didn’t even want to be in.
© David Selby 2011
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