Doubt is my enemy.
Glares as we enter the arena.
His sick, twisted grimace is smugly smushed against a
Slits for eyes but they laugh
Assured of their victory.
He's black; body, mind, and soul.
Cracks of bone as we stretch
Drips of sweat.
Think classic struggle
But add primal, physical manifestation.
Even as Doubt approaches, Hesitation pins me down.
Thought flits, distracting.
My punch lands that disgusting, malformed, reeking face!
Instead of felling, as enemy should,
That creature dissipated. Disappeared.
Left me without perverse pleasure
Of the last, demeaning victory hit.
In his place,
That damned, self-righteous, demon-man,
Created: Mar 04, 2011teeaaapee Document Media