12 June 2012
He was wet. He was cold. He was hungry. His blood craving nicotine. His mood was as dark as the clouds in the sky, as he thought of what could have been.
He could have been a contender. He could have had it all. He could have taken the 'title'. He was paid to take a fall.
Now he weighed the coin against the value of his worth, as his fingers probed the swelling on his face.
He'd given up the 'title' to a champion undeserved. In the 8th round took a fall, and gained disgrace.
The Boxer • Opuss № I