I could see it,
See it coming,
The punch,
A punch avoided,
Avoided in the last second.

Another one comes,
To quick to avoid,
Hits hard.

I can feel,
How my inside burst,
How my yaw disconnects.

Yet they come,
More and more,
No end,
The next above the eye.

The swollen feeling,
My sight diminishes,
One eye left,
To duck out,
The rest.

Another one comes,
The quickness,
Ducked out,
But with a quick turn,
It hits anyway.

Once again,
To the yaw,
The other side,
Teeth sent flying.

This is the punches,
Punches of old,
Punches of new,
Punches yet to come.

©Rasmus Lönfeldt