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Another shot to his spine, a strike to his heart, driving him to the mat
He gets back up
Dust in his throat, vain panting cracks his lips, gasping for another second of relief
He gets back up
Joints grinding tight, they encumber his efforts, taungting his will to fight
He gets back up
Pain runs like lightening, rakes his limbs, makes sluggish his senses
He gets back up
Ringing in his ears, static in his mind that bloodies his sight
He gets back up
Blackness creeps into his heart, Fear screams for him to quit
He gets back up
Focusing on the rage before him, stemming a break, he finds one more moment
And He gets back up
Once again, and then another
Listening to the story in his gut, like pushing a blackened stone back
Into the wall, the pain is pushed into the recess of his savaged heart
Offering one more stand of resistance, a resolve of tempered faith
He gets back up.