The bell sounds again
I lift myself off the wooden stool
My legs
concrete blocks shuffling to the center
of the ring
Another round
I lift my hands
tied into old gloves
the stuffing beat down
blood seeping from my knuckles
darkening the worn leather
I am tired
My opponent
Pops his neck
Shuffles his feet
He looks as fresh as a new day
I know I will have to dodge and weave
and pray I land a lucky punch
I breathe deeply
Close my eyes for a second
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