He clinches his fist as he swings for the fucking fences
His sense of abandon keeps him from deaths door.
Blown knees and torn fucking muscles heart made of steel
These are the hours he never wants back this is the price that you pay for glory.
Or maybe a since of fulfillment very few can appreciate the silence.
The cold calm when nothing is left standing in your way.
This is joy in its greatest moment shared only with the truly selfish, in a place where only the Lonely ever choose to stand and die.
Behind every drop of sweat, eyes unfazed and devoid of feeling.