Round Three

Round three.

 

I’m tie and tied,

Watching it all fly by.

My issues are lost,

Burned by the frost.

 

I’m tired of fires,

Caught in the cross,

In the middle of lies,

I’m avoiding the shots.

 

But why tell you,

My friend?

It’s just my point of view,

It’ll meet its own end.

 

But down inside,

We’re not alright.

The world’s falling apart,

Yet you act just fine.

 

So please,

Keep throwing punches.

You claim to aim

But you fight through swollen eyes.

 

Your enemies left,

So very long ago.

Damn them if you will,

But don’t make me your kill.

Author's Note

This story was originally written for Writer's Window, but was never posted. Therefore, I'm going to reuse the Author Note from Writer's Window...

Wait for some friends of yours to get in fight with one another, then get in the middle to try and straighten things up. Its what I always do, and I wouldn't recommend it. Just like a fist-fight, you're bound to get one or two punches thrown your way. Didn't feel much inspiration toward this one. I just wrote it 'cause I was bored, and thus it turned out poor. Go figure.