Fist fight

As a youth, you have to be a part of a fist fight to show your manliness. Unfortunately, I haven’t been in any. Oh no! I remember now, I was also in a fist fight and it was started by him.

I didn’t want to ever add “BEEN IN A FIST FIGHT” to my life’s resume but we seldom get what we want. The worst part of being in a fist fight is either your face or your hands(sometimes both) are bruised. With me, it was none.

So the good news is, I smacked him. My right hand landed on his left chin, which burst open his lip and he was stunned. He didn’t expect this and so did I. Both were surprised, he fumbled and fell on the sofa and looked at me with anger in his eyes. I was holding his right hand with my left one. We made eye contact and the amount of hatred he had for me was waiting to be erupted as a volcano.

Nothing was audible to me. I was angry and it was only shown in my reflex punch & raging eyes. Other than that, I was calm. Then all of a sudden, voices started getting audible and started getting louder with rising decibel. Some cries, some begging. All vague.

I looked around and saw my mother pulling my shirt and begging me to stop. I couldn’t make sense of it all. I was hypnotised by emotions.  Then the anger in my eyes descended and the anger in my father’s eyes too. He came to the realization that hitting his spouse do not make him any STRONGER and hence the reflex punch and that is how it feels to be beaten and that too by his own blood. I am sure he must have wished IF HIS SPERM DIDN’T FUSE MY MOM’S OVARY THAT NIGHT. But, the damage’s done & we all have to face the things we are entitled to. His time of realization had just started and he was within his boundaries since that fight.

Now, as a son, I don’t want this fight to be in my resume or to be proud of. But that’s life. We get what we are entitled to and not what we imagine.

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P.S.: Today’s pick is Army of Ellie Goulding 🙂

Secrets..

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tpp, tpp, tpp, tpp

With each step ahead
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Sweat from the brow
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Destination beyond horizon
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Next level of dehydration
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No one to help
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Track me by the sweat trail
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I may not go long
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I may stumble in the next step
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How did I reach here?
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tpp, tpp, tpp
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Oh, I am tired to move anymore
The sunburn hurts
The injuries hurt
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Have been dragging my feet
Since last 6 hours
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I have been free
Since the same last 6 hours
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Before that
I was held
I was a hostage
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I was kicked, punched
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I was beaten
By a stick, rod, belt
You name it
I was tortured
Several teeth cracked
Limbs broken
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But I didn’t give up
I didn’t tell them the secrets
I sacrificed my life
Life of my family
My mother, wife and son
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But didn’t tell my enemies
Anything valuable
Luckily got hold of a blade
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Killed 2 and in return
Got shot twice
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Running towards the border
But, where is it?
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I know I won’t be able
To meet anyone anymore
But
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At least I will not die a hostage
Not as a turncloak

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A herd of Eagles hovering
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due image credits