12 Round Poem by Jeremy Allen

It's getting harder and harder to focus on my opponent. Been talking hits from all sides it feels like. Subtle jab here strategic shot there. I had my moments but that haymaker to the head rung my bell as u can tell by my stance, trying to give it another chance but I'm numb from the pain with every shot it feels like I've been injected with novacaine I feel it less and less. The stress of this fight has my mind in a mess this is my toughest test but I stand my ground but in my head there's this sound a beautiful sound so tempting that it lures me away from the objective you're in my head showing me the fight from your perspective. Shot after shot the more I ache 2 shots to the chest my heart crumbles under the pressure of it all. Every word spoken from your lips is some form of your devious deception that is torturing my mind and devouring my soul. The longer the round the more menacing is the sound ringing louder in my head like a bad melody set on repeat. More shots to the head, lethal blows to the body got me rethinking this engagement as my heart prepares itself to get struck down to the pavement as the mental gymnastics you've been doing in mind prepares my body for the canvas. With every lie told another shot is thrown one more deadly than the next I'm thinking why me why me all of this because of a text. My body under duress with these shots and low blows. I tried to clinch but I went limp from a body shot so cold jack frost felt it's fury. Free falling to the mat I'm having flashbacks of our first encounter and the many ones after with a smile on my face I can finally close this chapter.