Round 3

Fuck it’s a fight about
A poem about fighting

Fuck what I feel
You know who cares?

Not a one
Gives a fuck
About me and
My bad luck

Think I give a shit
About what I feel?
God damn what I am
Just ain’t even real

Motherfuckers won’t
Remember my bruised
Face and blackened
Bloodshot eyes

And paralyzed
By a toxin
Poisonous rocks in

Your shoes making it
Uncomfortable to even walk
In your own skin diabolical
Clocks ticking time away

A vampire’s leeched your
Ego away
Your shield and sword
Lowrider and glock

Snark level minimum
If you do you’re
Killing them

Better not write
Another one

Better censor
The spilling thoughts
Before you break

Round 3
How’s the face feel?
Pummeled and funneled
Words siphoned out your mouth

Criticisms never ending
But don’t you respond
Any more words like that
And be less toxic

Quicksand across the land
Step quietly
With a fist
In a hand

I have to type out my
Apologies on a processor
To make sure I don’t skirt
Anything that’ll piss you off

I’ll be doing these things
Waiting patiently
While you never say a single
Piece about why that poem
Meant something to me

Don’t apologize, I’m all good
Verbal abuse was never
My thing
But you’ll make it my food

And siphon these words
Out my mouth
To satisfy yourself
No self awareness to tout

This is round 3
How’s the face feel?
I’m bleeding and bruised
And my ego’s eroded

Still alive I say
I am so zen
Your apology will be
When your actions confronting

Yourself will have no one
Else to blame or bully
I hate to say it but fuck
You don’t fight very nice

Yet I can’t talk to you
About these things
And if I expose any bit of it
Oh, that’s fight worthy

I’m guilty of
But the shit you say
Is so much more tangible

If we were fighting in public
I’d be proud of myself
And I know for a fact that
You’d be ashamed of yourself

Emasculating manhandling
Actually hurtful bullshit
Name calling and insulting
I am proud of myself

I’m too zen to let your hatred in
These topsy-turvy
Bipolar sentences
That you whip me with

I can’t forgive you with
And you’ll spin this shit
Every which way
And at the end of my day

I’m going to bed with a
Smile on my face
Because I’m proud
I survived one more round

Published by Jake Thomas Shaw

Concerned with memory, currency, and destiny, I strive to capture each one as they happen. Join me and consume reality! Radio Reality. City!

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