fighting

Fighting

Why do we fight?
People being sent to their demise.
Doing something they feel is bigger than themselves,
Not realizing that death means no return.
Pity how people have such a difficulty creating peace,
Men becoming monsters they were never meant to be.
Murder, sacrifice and watching others suffer,
Watching their time in this world fade in haste,
Only tarnish the purest spirits.
Leaving the deepest scars that constantly remind them,
How they can never be the same from the cruelty of their past.
Seeking the lords guidance to cleanse their minds,
Trying to forget what has warped their minds.
The beast that has grown in their time of madness,
Can be caged just as easily as it had grown in the havoc.
Just because they were treated as animals,
Doesn't mean they're forced to become one.
You are who you are by your own judgment,
Break the cycle and show others,
The greatest peace is created in the ruins.
Making something out of nothing,
Thankful to be alive,
Appreciate what makes everything seem alright.

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A Happy Ending

She lunged at me.
I fought back.
A call for assistance.
He pulled her away.

Escorted to
a separate unit,
I sit and wait
for the beast to calm down.

I see him.
Does he care?
Yes, he does,
because he's holding my hand.

Broken and bruised,
I cry in his shoulder.
Knuckles red and purple.
What happened?

I hate her.
And her best friends.
What did you do to her?
Restrained.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this while in a behavioral health center.

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Fighting in the Coliseum Ring

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Story ideas

Those who fight in Coliseum aren’t thought of as heroes, but instead thought of as lowlifes. Today was my day to be in the ring. I don’t want to go, and I’m very scared. I’m raised up into the ring, and let out when I reach the floor. When I step into the ring, I swallow, a lump forming suddenly in my throat. I slowly turn around, the grains of sand grinding under the pads of my feet. I turn my head, and I see that the whole circular stand is full of spectators. They are screaming, and spitting. In my opinion, though, these people look more like a blood thirsty mob. I look up, past some spectators, and see the person who was called the emperor. He sat in the space between two rows, on a throne. This man was a savage! He listened to whatever the stupid spectators wanted him to do. They scream for blood, and the emperor would give it to them. There was a full house today; all 50,000 spaces for spectators were taken. The life of the humans, and the animals, rest in the hands of these people. These people disgust me. Even though the emperor was supposed to have more power than these regular people, he would give them what they want.
I think back on everything that I’ve learned in the past year. For gladiators, training was difficult and extensive. To be able to fight, the gladiators have to fight every day, and the life wasn’t glamorous. You fight until your contract has ended, and then whatever amount of money you have earned, is given to you. But if you die before you reach the end of your contract, your family might get the money. If you were a slave gladiator, then the money was not given to your family. How stupid is that?
As I’m looking around the coliseum, at the faces of the spectators, I have no doubt that this isn’t going to be a good day. I hear cheering, and see this gladiator coming out from a door straight in front of me. It’s not the regular gladiator. It’s an amazon. A female gladiator. These kind of gladiators are not protected as much as some of the male gladiators are. She is wearing a loincloth, a manica (arm protector), a metal greave on her lower leg, a gladius (sword), and a big body shield. This isn’t lucky for me, since I don’t have any of the armor. The match begins, and I drop down into a crouching defensive position, and growl at the amazon.
From what I heard while I was in the Hypogeum, the literal meaning being “underground”, where the gladiators and animals who were waiting to be brought up to the ring to fight, I will be fighting someone who is a criminal or something, and she hasn’t had any training. This could possibly work in my favour. If I am going to fight against someone who has not been taught what to do, and trained, I will have the upper hand, since I am a natural born fighter. I believe that the reason that I was wanted to be a fighter in the Coliseum ring was because it is believed by others also, that I am a great fighter.
The amazon lunges forward, thrusting her sword towards me, and I nimbly dance out of the way. She lets out an inhuman sound that is sort of like what I think you’d hear if a woman was part dog, and was jumping. As she emits this strange sound, she slices her gladius thing at me, and the tip of it nicks the tip of my shoulder. I howl in pain, and she keeps swinging at me. I smoothly dodge her attacks, dancing out of the way of danger. She gets increasingly more agitated with each failed attempt at hitting me. I know that I have more stamina than she does, so all I have to do is keep having her try to hit me, and just hope that I’m fast enough to avoid getting hit. After about thirty minutes of dodging her attacks, she starts to stumble, and her swinging gets weaker. I know that right now is my time to attack. I lunge at her and, since I wasn’t given any weapons, I slip behind her, and sink my teeth into the flesh of her thigh. She howls in pain, like a coyote in a moonlit night. This gives me pleasure in the knowledge that this will be an easy fight, like the kind of fight you will get if you put a rabbit in a ring with any type of cat.
I jump against her back, knocking her into the grainy sand. The blood is flooding down her leg, and she is not giving much of a fight any more. She is way too tired, and this is just the way I like to end a fight. I bite into the back of her neck, and shake my head back and forth, tearing up the tissue on her neck. She lies there, unmoving, and I know that I’ve won. I ignore the sounds of the spectators, and let her neck go. And, because I’m so hungry, and don’t believe in letting a kill go to waste, I dig into her flesh. I enjoy the taste of her meat, and the warm juicy blood. I get a whipped in the back, the side, the face, as I am driven back, away from my meal, and into a cage. My fight is over, for today.
You may think that I am a human. A cannibalistic human. But I’m not. I’m not part of the weak, wimpy race that is called human. No, way! I am a natural born fighter! I am a leader! I am a wolf! I run with the pack, and we do what we want. We aren’t controlled by the ring of a bell. We are strong minded, and I don’t have to live by the will of another. I am a wolf who is captive for the pleasure of the stupid spectators, and I know that I will never be going home.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This was an assignment for my World Civ class, and I liked how it turned out, so I decided to put it online! Please leave a comment!

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Worth fighting for

It only took one night
To steal my heart
To make me feel
Like never before
Things i thought
have died a long time ago
Could it be luck or fate that made me walk over
To see you sittin there on that doorstep
call me crazy
only for you
but It only took one night
To make me know
Iv found somthing Worth Fighting For

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Barrel Glass

Barrel Glass was intimate
with heave of shattered bone,
familiar with the viscera;
made better by the sight.
His face a weathered tree stump,
oaken with a gnarled snout -
he comes at you like sudden gusts
of wind from distant tundras.
His eyes are deep and sunken,
but they always carry glow
and reflections of the fullest moon,
stolen from the harvest.
Barrel Glass had family
who needed food and drink and home,
and so he sought fortuity
beneath dim torch of drunkard's stall.
People called him Barrel Glass
because his jaw was always broken,
but he still has yet to lose a fight,
nor succumbed to drinks from casks.
His shoulders hunched and forward-sloped,
he stood a stout and awkward height.
A barrel's worth of swank was his,
if the barrel would be his bed.
He'd forward all his scratchings home,
sleep in dizzy, haggard bouts,
beat some lively bones to death,
seek to find a proper bed.
His knuckles grew as all his teeth
shattered and were thrown down pits.
He didn't miss the taste of things.
He gathered sweat and drank it down.
Soon he couldn't speak again,
the jaw receiving just too much.
Now it's just a gaping wound,
with lulling tongue beneath slate glass.
Abject horror lays in those
who rookie up through Barrel,
who's not above an elder beast;
who's still in love with pain.
The vacant gaze, the mortal leer,
the lapping tongue against fogged sheet,
a pin of heat all through your guts;
suddenly, he's on you.

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Float Upwards

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My Personal Faves

This that million billion
zillion other things
swarm like bees, thoughts do
I just can't decide

Stop! Just stop! I
Close my eyes
Then close them tighter
Images flash

Feel breath leaving, somewhat choppy
Never tears
I just feel numb
Til I see your face
It brings me here

Back to now
What i want, i love
It is always art
My life, my dream

I feel so weak
Misplaced
held down by waves that
Pull me under, I
Fight, I struggle
Im a child
Tossed and suffocating
Blinded by the bubbles and noise
Which way up
How can I find it?

Will I float towards sunlight if I'm calm?
Or must I deliberately and actively swim upwards?
Open my eyes and seek light, if it stings my eyes?
Or have faith in my air-filled lungs to make me rise?

how can I think myself
Out of this blind spot
When the reason
I'm so deep
Is my thoughts themselves?

Rabid vermon
Keep me in self-inflicted wounds
And punishment
Self destruction --such a force

I guess I am stronger than I thought
But I use my strength to hurt myself
Like I would hurt
no one else

Angry bitter; That is fine
But to take a chance on love again
Well that seems foolish

When it hurts inside
So badly you want to give up
Rather than face heartbreak again
I cannot fight it
I guess I'll just hope
to
Float Upwards

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A Fallen Soldier

The Soldier gets a letter saying he has to go to war
His wife is 8 months pregnant
The Soldier has to leave for war
His wife is almost going into labor
The wife just had a daughter
The Soldier hasn't slept in days
His wife can't sleep cause of the baby
The Soldier after 3 months finally gets a phone call home
He finally hears his daughter cry
The Soldier is killed by a surprise bombing
His daughter says daddy for the first time
Now his wife is a widow
The daughter never met her father
He died for his country
They gave his wife a pin and flag
All they could say was I am sorry
The daughter never knew her father.

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