Kickboxer

Duran grew up in a tinderbox home

With seven brothers

His mother was coming and going

His father was gone

But he continued to grow

His brothers

Kept him in food and diapers

The food bank did what it could

Luckily mother still paid her taxes

Even though the property was s**t

Boarded up with discarded panels

And as the younger of eight

He got the crap beaten out of him

Many a time he cried scared

As the pain sharpened his instinct

He would clutch his discarded animal stuffed

Unaware of the benefit his brothers provided

So he grew

When it was time to go to school

He would fight instantaneously

He wouldn't give an inch of disrespect

He had to preserve

Even though he wasn't in danger

He couldn't see the difference

Between conflict and conversation

He wasn't a bully though

Well not intentionally

He would take all comers

Big or small

When they would come around he even

Big brothered a few of their older siblings

So he grew

As he did the home situation worsened

A couple brothers died in gang violence

One got addicted to drugs

Stripped the bare cupboards

Of every last lick of lint

But his maturity kept pace

With survival

And his violent instincts made him an athlete

That would push where others got pushed back

To defeat and ran out of continue

And the father figure he looked to in school

Brought him to a warehouse

After hours where he learned to channel

His fire into shaping himself up to be a man

So he grew

Wraps around his arms and legs

Just an extension of skin

Through hematomas and scars

He found the iron that sharpened the hell of him

He was getting battered as he did by his brothers

When he was a little young

But he soaked it up

So he grew

His coach made sure

He got a meal before and after practice

Though the sleep was still a little rough

Laying down next to roaches

On a piss stained mattress

Finally he competed

And finally he won

It was strange to him

The competition was nothing

Compared to the training

Purposeful and environmental hazards

And people were proud of him

Odd to get your self-esteem

From something those before

Told you was wrong

He didn't see the variation in venue

So the years went on

And he got to sleeping on his mentors couch

And winning his matches

They burnt to nothing in his fire

Ashes

And he could afford a little food

And his master talked

Of how he got his start

Reviews

[charlie]

I think there's a novella here. If not a ballad

[Luke L]

ah I don't really like this piece, I had an idea, but I didn't finish it and I didn't execute it right, but thanks nonetheless

[Pryde Foltz]

But his maturity kept pace
With survival

Really great write, Luke.

[Luke L]

I think it's s**t, I don't know where I was going with this piece, but I think I shall delete it

[Pryde Foltz]

Its definitely not s**t, must be something missing to your mind. Oh and don't cut off your ear either;)