Once more I rise
My eyes, my lungs filled with the dust
Of the arena floor
You are too strong, my worthy foe
The crowd clamors for blood
My blood
As once more I rise
This last time
Before I fall, finally and forever
But I do not rise for you
No, not for you
Nor certainly for the pleasure of jeering voices
Fomenting hate, though they know not whom
They so despise
But, in a way, I die for them
I represent their dark souls
In my disgrace, I somehow give them hope
Hope that they too may someday vanquish
Their enemies
But I do not choose to rise for them
And I most certainly do not rise for you,
Although, you are worthy
Of this, my final stand
And a chance to prove
The full strength of your hand
No, I do not rise for you but
For myself
My pride mostly
Which is all that remains of this miserable life:
Pride in the one I had hoped to become,
Victor in this dark arena
And so, as I rise
It is only pride that rises
And only pride that will fall
The rest of who I am or ever was or ever hoped to be
Still lies buried in the dust
Nevermore to rise
A great poem, really like it. A great write. May i invite you to read my new poem called, An Angel Cries.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good composition.....