By Andrew R. Duckworth
He looks as if he’s tripped
And kissed the floor
One too many times before.
The fellas at the site ask why
And he says “because,”
And not another word more.
But when the sun goes down again
The real test begins.
He climbs in the cage
With fists of rage
With just a few watching him take his stage.
He’s a man’s man
And has a hard right hand,
Never know how many blows he’ll land.
But those kids at home depend on his might,
And that’s why he fights.
Poetry of Andrew Ryan Duckworth 