I saw my first fist fight.
In the woods across the street.
I follow a couple friends of mine.
They'd seen fights before.
I haven't.
We walked into the open area,
A circle starts to form.
I see a few familar faces.
I notice them but I don't think they notice me.
People start to chant.
Smokers taking long drags off their cigarettes.
I'm coughing from the smoke.
Not used to this.
Two guys enter the center.
It looks like it should be a pretty fair fight.
They shake hands.
They back up bouncing
Beckoning the other to make a move.
A fist is thrown
Miss
Another thrown
Hit.
Hit
Hit
Hit.
He grabs his eye in pain blood trickling down his head.
Hit
Hit
Hit.
A car door slams.
The shouts of others to run.
People scatter.
I take off down a trail.
Not waiting to see what happens.
I enter the hallways,
Before 4th period.
He recognized me from the fight,
I asked if he was okay.
He said he'd been through worse?
I couldnt ask him the real question.
Why did you fight?
Why do people fight?
All it ever causes is pain.
I guess you could say i was left pondering the question.
What are we fighting for?
YOU ARE READING
Poems From an Almost Dead Girl
PoetryJust a teenager struggling with life who likes poetry. This is a bunch of original poems written all by me some were written during tough times in my life and are old while others are fairly new.I hope you enjoy them.
