Through the womb of existence we enter the world
Held lovingly in other arms, we let our tears unfold
A closer look at our hands and you will see
That we have curled our fingers to clench a fist to be
At this point in time there is no need to worry
Only the reflex of innocence adjusting to world’s flurry
But secret to existence is an inclination being learnt
To store matches in our mind’s holster to be burnt
Is it coincidence that every baby is made a boxer?
The infant given gloves to not fight its skin ever so softer
A mitten used to cover its sharp uncut nail
To avoid the slightest scratch and let imperfection prevail
Every child is born innocent, non-violent and pure
It’s life direction moving like a wind endure
It is on existent’s way three affections take shape
In this process clouding our fine wine from the sour grape
The first liking is one of guardian blind projection
Never seen, but moving, a changing transformation
To the closest kin to your spirit, you are molded a being
Your essence personalized based on another’s seeing
The second dependency is the realization there is a mirror
Your lens of existence becoming known through your eyes so nearer
You sadly don’t see goodness, but the spider webs of your soul
Driven by comparative imperfections where you start to lose control
The final draw is the illusion you are in a house of reflections
A delusion created by society’s fingers thrashing your directions
Nerves get pinched from the very blemish your mirror seen
Now coming to light through others, a darkness cloud so mean
To summarize in the first, you sleep as others mold your personality
In the second, you awaken and ponder your individuality
In the last, others fling dirt toward your mind to alter
Emotional punches now hit you and your guardian defenses falter
You are morphing to become a boxer, and while you haven’t punched
You remember gloves on born hands nails covered shaped hunched
You have the power to loosen the hand, but the outside world is cruel
Words and actions of others have threaded you to the spool
Anger now fumes and madness confusion reign within
Only between you and the tarmac is your fury to let the fight begin
Remember a real fighter controls his senses without lifting a finger
Yet you have let actions of others get to you, letting anger linger
Between the dressing room and the boxing ring is a short way
It’s on this path that you must look within to keep the fight at bay
Just reflect and see what animal you have become
Breathe and pause for a second and let your cannibalism succumb
Keep in mind, a fire can get created with any spark within
You have the liberty to take a match out anytime to let the blaze begin
But wait, for you may think your state of delusion is caused by another
For this is not, it’s only a negative reflection of your own mirror
This duplicity where you see yourself comes to be a broadway show
Where you open the curtain, with stands so high you seem so low
You can’t handle the spotlight, and can’t even break a leg
You question life’s purpose and don’t even know how to move the peg
What you are missing to see is the critical point of reflection
One where your personality is conditioned to be perfection
In this confusion, dusts of another take you toward a negative side
But you need to nurture your individuality where you can’t divide
Get your act together and come to realize
True self-love doesn’t come from another a mere disguise
The mirror you control is clouded toward the positive
Get above the hidden storm clouds to crush the negative
The ability to get above the gale is due to a conflict of reason
Where in your separation from an illusion you create a reality division
When others see perfection for yourself it doesn’t mean you are blind
It’s just that you can’t see imperfection from an immature mind
As you grow to see your mirror, self-imperfection gives rise
Your clouded nature blocking a hidden surprise
The very mirror exists to reflect individuality to be seen
Its here the beauty of your true being is at the forefront of the scene
If only you would see another side of the mirror where all reflections pass
None can complain of your seen ice or water as all that exists is steamed gas
As you perform the walk to the tarmac a new reality will be born
Where you can crown yourself champion, and remove the gloves being worn
Your worth is not derived by what others think
For even their stench is caught by others, and their flaws ever stink
Only a troubled soul disturbs another to let misery live
For they are gifting same faults they see in themselves as a present to give
So you see a domino effect of misery loving company
Only a way out is if you execute a speedy mutiny
But not through violence which is a coward’s way out
Move slowly, carefully, lovingly, don’t even shout
In your silence take hold of the punches you will throw
Don’t light the match to let the fire glow
Keep your hands open along your side
Bring out your inner dove and let anger subside
The fight you are in is not with the wrath of society
It’s the way you are dealing with a conditioned personality
For life is a process that cracks the cells of the jailed identity
To give rise to unconditioned true self individuality
When the thought emerges to strike another with your hand
Remember once more your clenched fingers as soft as sand
Clasp the digits of each hand to lock your stance
Create a firm lace that can’t move, but could if you dance
You can now make friend the enemy that exists within
A stalemate boxing match where neither side will win
You now morph to become the mirror and let love win without fight
Perfection becomes your hand with another for you to befriend so tight