With my bloody knuckles
and my bloodier knee,
which threatens to buckle,
what will become of me?

I’ve struggled and I’ve fought
just like the stories tell
but all that I have caught
are just all kinds of hell.

Now I see the limit
at the end of my path
but I cannot submit
to their justified wrath.

I’ll struggle to the end
because that is my way.
I’ll roar and rip and rend
on this:  my final day.

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