Two Boys Fight

Two boys fight in the mud.

The pain of a fist

Is dampened in the rain.

Their tears are washed away.

One sat on the other’s bench,

And action soon came from anger

Now the noble cause has disappeared

And all that matters is the end,

of course.

The winner,

Will stand

– With the same taste sharp of blood on his tongue –

As the loser at his feet.

What point does victory serve

When it is nothing but a proven pretender?

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