Fighting For It

This is just gonna be where I post all of the poems that I write on here. I also put them on my dA (Cenitopius.Deviantart.Com) and my Facebook for those of you who already have it.
This series would probably have been called 'A Little Bit of Poetry' if it weren't for the fat that Fighting For It (101) was so descriptive of the whole series in it's name that I had to use it here as well.


42. He'll Pay

There's a certain amount of righteousness that can only come from a punch to the face in the case that someone derates the role that you play in the world, and if your uncertain about how much it is I advice you to go ahead and take the first god damned swing, because the only thing that's holding you back is fear. The fear of what might happen if you do it, but really you're just new to it, and if you take the first swing, the second will come naturally. The third - it might be yours or it might not, but you'll hesitate even if he doesn't. After that, it's a fight, and you're either the knight or the stupid village folk that ran in, who has a sword? who has a tack? But no-one really knows because weapons are for pro's, and you just want to go right for it, fight for it, whatever it is, you're right for it and that's why you did it, who was it that said it?

Who said anything?
Why did this start?
What happened?
What caused all of this?
Was it just hit and miss, a failed attempt to turn blue into bliss? A kiss, on the cheek that you didn't turn, it mightn't have ever concerned you if you didn't do what it is that you did, you hit a guy. But why? Was he really in the wrong? What's his version of the song? What if this was all your fault. It's all your fault, you shouldn't have done it, you're not fit, for her, for anyone, it's all gone and you're the one that took it away from you, yourself. You should have just put it up on the shelf, another keepsake or toy, something else to avoid, but did you really need to do all this, to land a kiss of your fist on his face? Is this just part of the nature of the human race? Would the situation have been any better if you'd had a mace? Did you really just need some god damned space? Was that needed? What just seeded into this intricate plant you went and burned down, why was it this guy you decided was going to drown?
Is there something wrong with your mind?
Classes get passes, you take the bus home, drop your bag, shoulders sag and you take a coffee up to your room, mopping spillings up with a broom because you can't find the mop and who really cares, you're not gonna get any stares but it's faster, and this way it never stays.
God damn it, there's always bad days,
Man. Maybe it's me, maybe it's just a phase.

He'll pay...
I say all this, but these are my good days?

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