The Natural Gladiator
I slave all day laboring the hardest when the sun is so bright.
I breathe in your deadly crap- breathing out life, I later requite.
When darkness comes, I stand still – growing tall all these nights,
Observing millions upon millions but failing to count all these tiny lights,
Moving around on lifeless ground, breathing out their deadly blight,
And I feel old, tired, exhausted and most of all very sleepy.
So please forgive an old warrior who decides to do one last thing right.
Upon lying down I will take one of them with me: Maxima my enemy.
I was reading some of the short stories of the Friday Fictioneers on http://rochellewisofffields.wordpress.com/2013/08/14/16-august-2013/ and I could not resist the challenge to write something about this picture.