The Fighter Poem by Kelsey Martinson

Little boy
Only six
Defends himself
Throws his fist
He runs away
Never looks back
Too afraid
Avoids attack

Now at ten
He stands alone
Doesn't know when
To go back home
He keeps fighting
Staying strong
But times ticking
On and on

Fifteen years of age
Drop kicks and punches
Fueled with rage
Rolls in the money
Keeps a fair wage
Still lost
Still alone
Still fighting
To find a way back
Home

Tears glisten his eyes
As seventeen years pass by
Has nothing left
But fights and debt
In the ring he's invincible
Whom nobody can beat
But when he leaves
He's reminded how weak
A man can really be

Home is just a dream
To him it seems
As age twenty-one peaks
The memories haunt him
Fill him with need
To find a way out
To leave the city's greed
But how can you find
A place so pure
When your so tainted
A home so beautiful
It seems like it's painted
Hope surges in his chest
As he packs his bags
And heads out west
A smile touches his lips
As he thinks of the best

Age twenty-five
He drops his bag
Thanks God he's alive
For home is in his view
Sights so familiar
Yet everything new
He breathes in the air
Feeling on cloud nine
He falls to his knees
Bows his head, cries