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Punch Line

I heard a word that knocked me down,
A right cross word that broke my heart,
Then an upper cut, sorely felt,
A shot below the belt.

You went back to your neutral corner,
I staggered to my feet,
My peek-a-boo style no longe an option,
Thinking, if I'm in Hell, it's a repeat.

I get short on hopes,
Falling through the ropes,
With the coming division,
Of a split decision.

You got to get inside to mix it up,
Take the punishment if you can,
The whole scene is hit and miss,
Words are hard to understand.

My brain's a punching bag,
I got a glass jaw and the gift of gab,
But don't count me out; it's not the end,
I'll be back before the count of ten.

poem by Richard Jarboe
Added by Poetry Lover
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