Poem

Battered, Bruised but Content

It’s funny how a night of fighting can calm the body and mind.

As I lay on the couch, feet up, body unwilling to move, I put myself to the test, though I’d nothing to prove.

I have a few bruises, some here and some there, my muscles are aching, but I don’t really care.

The reason for the bumps, the lumps, scratches and pains, is that I spent two hours tonight, fighting again.

At least twice a week or whenever I’m free. I head to the local Krav Maga gym for a lesson you see.

We defend attacks against sticks, punch and kicks, sometimes knives. There’s only one rule and that's stay alive.

Some say it’s crazy, you’re mad, gone insane. You got cracked with a baton, yet you go back again.

The training’s so much fun and it’s second to none. There are no restrictions, it suits everyone.

Whether your tall, big or small, male or female, you’ll learn some cool shit, become hard as nails.

So, the next time you’re bored and want something new, try Krav Maga, it’ll change your world view.

But now I must go, off to bed, rest my brain, and look forward to the next time I can train Krav Maga once again.