The Pugilist - 2010/12/19

You think his weapons are his hands
Yet the war he wages is one of words
He is but one of many nameless faces
With a voice that inspires the herds
Dancing fast he spars back and forth
With hands like a mystical menagerie
His absolute mix of flight and force
Holds a vicious uncaring world at bay

People roared out for their champion
They made many cheers when he arrived
As they were so effortlessly reminded
How to reclaim what had been deprived
Some dare ask is he but a simple man
While consorting in order to destroy
Forgetting that while he might bleed
His persistence trumps any mere ploy

Nevermind he battles out of his pride
And works overtime to chase the glory
Know that with each and every victory
He relays to the cold world our story
So you may freely document his flaws
In an effort to denigrate his legend
Yet this mark he leaves on the world
Wont be either forgotten or lessened

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