Fall

Story line of the poem:  A fearsome champion wrestler , when he is ninety, recalls conquests and accomplishments of his youth and now, when he has lost all the charm and power, wonders who is the actual wrestler…

Fall

I crushed and crunched my foe
In the ring, like a king;
Blood was so hot then, that could melt the wounds.

I was ever the winner,
Head to head - neck to neck
And a few of my routs?
Oh, my conquests did it deck.

I was the fire, whom none would dare,
I was the very true nightmare.
And my turbulent triumphant attire?
It was just not a light affair.

Now I'm ninety
Or I believe so, for my memory now’s so weak
Eyes phobic even to light, and ears shut tight.

Biceps that once lifted the heavy logs
Now just fall lazy
And now when I’m prescribed
I see this world‘s sucking crazy

If I turn back
To repeat the words,
I wonder,
Who's the real wrestler?
Is that me or this eternal time??????