The eyes of the
fighters speak
with growling
deep from black
souls escaping
to the surface.
Sweat drips
to a stained canvas.
Blood soon releases
from open wounds
cut by leather.
The crowd sounds
a battle cry.
as the bell rings.
Adrenalin
charges the feet
to stand.
Fists rise like cannons
as the men circle,
flashing hate,
to the end.
Roger Singer 