Fight Scene


Tyler Phillips, Writer

The anger inside me

Held up for too long.

It starts to come out

In            full            blast              punches.
My knuckles start to dent the bag

As they turn raw.

My hands begin to become as red as blood

My hands start to become red hot.

My knuckle skin begins to tear

I notice red splotches

On the high-grade U.F.C. Boxing leather.

Breaths           between            each               punch              get               louder            and              longer,
As I begin to grow tired,

My knuckles are red and raw.

I sit down with a weight on my shoulders.

The bag sways back and forth with a creek


All the P.T.S.D. and Pain comes rushing back in a rush of more anger

A lot more anger.

Tears start to run down my cheeks.

I             start             to              remember              why               I                  started.
I get back up like I have nothing to lose

I                 start                 free                fighting
I punch and kick harder

Till my legs got numb and blood started to drip down from my knuckles and the bag.

I drop down to my knees

The Pain of the past got too much.

I let out this raged filled scream and cuss myself out

Not caring who would see or hear it.

Then I look at the blood on the ground

And it reminds me why I started.