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~ Words Are Food for the Soul ~

The Twelfth Round

Sitting on the small wooden stool in the corner of the ring he can hear the crowd chanting his name. A requiem to a long, lost hero whose time has long since been over. The sound echoing in his ringing ears like a distorted hum… his eyes blurred and burning from the blood and sweat as it drips down his beaten face. One last fight… one last time… that’s all he has left to be the man he once was. Every memory singed into his mind and replaying over and over again as he longs for the feeling of pride he once carried like a shield. A shield that kept out the despair… that held back the fear and the pain of all the inadequacies that haunted his soul day after day like a ghost in the shadows. A shield that was no more impenetrable or indestructible than a frail pane of glass in a raging storm. It was nothing more than an illusion that kept the fires burning long enough to make it through one more fight… one more triumph… one more defeat… just one more day of this life he has been forced ...

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