What keeps you pushing, harder, and harder to the edge of death?
It makes you immune to pain, and you never seem to run out of breath.
A little...something that makes your blood run hot.
Does it make you invincible? Well, I think not...
Tears and pain, blood, and strain.
It keeps you fighting, it keeps you running.
An ethereal feeling that can't replace money.
For risk, for fun, when it's all and done.
It...almost makes you faster than a gun.
So keep pushing...don't stop.
If you let go...you will drop.
"I can do this all day..." Raising your fists up again for brutal rounds to no ends.
Pupils sharpened, fists tightened. Arms shaking, and chest aching.
"It's just you and me. And you best believe, I'm gonna break some teeth."
YOU ARE READING
Random poems
PoetryStuff I think about time to time Words that come from the heart... not the hands...
