Professional: A Wrestling Poem.

Part One: Indie-pendence.

I who wear spandex and pretend to fight
I who do this dance night after night
I who still help set the ring up just right
I am a professional wrestler

I who count the lights on the ceiling

I who am an expert at selling a beating

I who lose without crying or bleating

I am a professional wrestler

I who will tell you “I hate this man”
I whose wellbeing is really in his hands

I who must trust that he sticks to the plan

I am a professional wrestler

I who they’ve chosen to job to a big star from TV

I who they’re paying 3 times more than me

I who could beat him up but you see,

I am a professional wrestler

I who will do the job again tonight

I who will try and make it a convincing fight

I who keep losing to the big boys night after night

I am a professional wrestler

I who electrify gyms, town halls and fairs in faded tights

I who tell myself someday it’ll be stadiums with my name in lights

I who then will be able to say and actually be right

I am a professional wrestler.

 

By Poet Lariat, Martin Dixon (@BunnySuicida)

 

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