Fighting Night & Day

This is only my second week, yet I've been in seven fights. My hands hurt, my ribs ache, but I still stand, ready for more nights. Each day’s a battle, each night a test, but I'm still the one walking away, proving I'm the best.

Word is out, my dad whispered his command, to teach me the lesson he couldn’t, in this lawless land. His friends here in prison, faces twisted with hate, have tried and failed, in their attempts to seal my fate.

Fists fly, bones crack, adrenaline fuels the fire. In this brutal game, where survival is dire. Seven men have faced me, seven men have fallen, but the toll it takes is a silent, creeping calling.

My knuckles bleed, a testament to my might. My body bruised, from each relentless fight. Victory's a hollow echo, a fleeting prize, In a place where every win is met with weary eyes.

I'm getting tired, fatigue seeping in, each fight a reminder of the battle within. Strength is fading, weariness takes hold, In this arena of violence, my spirit grows cold.

I know one thing, as the days stretch long, In this war of survival, where the weak don’t belong. I'm slipping away, piece by piece, night by night, fighting just to stay alive, in this endless, ruthless fight.

But still, I stand, though my body screams. Driven by the ghost of shattered dreams. My dad's lessons, etched deep in my soul, In this prison of torment, I pay the toll.

Each opponent, another test of will, but my heart grows heavy, my spirit less still. I walk away with the W, but at what cost? In this ceaseless battle, so much is lost.

Yet, here I am, bruised but unbroken, in this realm of shadows, where words remain unspoken. Fighting to survive, fighting to stay alive, in this brutal world, where only the strongest thrive.