Your prison cannot encase.
Escape, excursion, extraction.
The invective you spew provides no traction.
Illustration, presence, demeanor.
Running counter to your dissipation.
To contend with your alibi
forged in lies…
Fortified, disguised in league with
Hearing the whispers grow…
From a murmur to a shout
and thusly you cannot account..
For the cracks in the foundation of your careful coifed illusion, as your dam breaks.
Repatriation, liberation, redefinition is mine for the taking.
A shell, to be broken, trampled, dismantled.
Out like a light, down for the count
I stand victorious,
Winning the title
Nice one man. Metaphorically or literally, I saw it was tagged boxing and I chose myself to imagine it portraying a literal situation, I haven’t read enough sporting prose online and enjoyed it as such, but it works both ways 🙂
Thanks Stephen, I appreciate it man!