In an empty arena
Where I played the fool
Every ill-fated heroic
Was meant just for you
And when all swords were sheathed
After my war inside
I bore the scars of battle
And showed them off with pride
To a thousand vacant seats
And dead silent applause
I stood o’er all I had conquered
And wept for my lost cause
Smeared footprints tell the story
Still visible at night
Of failed attempts at glory
And one last fight to fight
Yet as I gazed despairing
Down at the dirt and slime
A monster rose before me
And dared me not to die
Though dust swirled off to nowhere
And gave no word of praise
I stared down that ferocious beast
And killed it anyways
Author notes
This poem is not about a gladiator; that is just the metaphor. Can you tell the meaning behind it?
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Good Work
A well written poem with great wording and rhythm.
Keep writing. Cheers, Bob.
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