Gloves.

Gloves

Get heavy.

Cumbersome.

In a ring

You never asked to be in.

Jab.

Jab.

Jab.

Multiple opponents.

Bare-fisted and raging,

While you just trying to stay standing.

Eventually, though.

Eventually.

You’ve taken one too many on the jaw,

And you look around and you wonder….

Why am I the only one with gloves on?

I can’t breathe.

My hands can’t breathe,

And it won’t be much longer

Until I shed mine, too.

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