Fuck You Procrastination

I will be great again, as a warrior should

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Photo by Diego Jimenez on Unsplash

My bones rattle the train.

Cla clink.

Cla clink.

Cla clink.

I shut my eyes. Tight.

This training is all I know.

All I am.

I wake up to fight.

I wake up to train.

I am a warrior.

This is my dream.

This is my eternal sunshine.

Nothing will take this away from me. The sunlight speaks through my eyelids in flitting gold rays of hopeful light.

I feel heaven inside my mind and the devil in my soul.

Neither will stand my wrath.

My fury.

My rage.

My fists are extensions of infinite time.

Love is speaking to me from heaven.

My grandpa is welcoming me home.

Nothing is impossible.

We must do what we are meant to do.

We must be what we are meant to be.

The gods and muses and trains rattle inside us because we have to listen.

We remain the ones to beg out the best of our souls.

“Let’s welcome back our very own…” the speakers roar.

Fighters fight. Lovers love. The competition cock-a-doodles inside me. I feel it feathering through my soul.

As rocket fuel fire sprays up my spine, quills shoot to the moon.

I take the gloves and smash them together.

It’s time to take responsibility for what I am.

Who I’ve become.

And what I’ll do next.

“The fight of the century. THE HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WORLD…”

There is nothing I can’t do.

I turn the music even higher, and the train rattles me home.

Nothing can stop me, not with an effort like this.

Day after day I will fight.

I promise you this.

Cla clink.

Cla clink.

Cla clink.

“Do it or don’t do it.”

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