They sit in life’s arena, the bruiser.
They came with a heart full and hands worn.
A fighter brave, always and for right.
The bruiser poem presents might in a special manner.
Scarred by the fight, adorned with sores.
He wakes up strong, over and over.
Powerful Edgy Warrior that won’t Surrender.
The bruiser poem starts to be seen.
Every single scratch tells a story, every single tear left a mark.
Safely through storm and battle, they fought in the dark.
But there is still morality in his heart.
This is much more than what a bruiser’s heart is.
The whole idea when punches might be thrown and people scream.
But he tires of war, not of a war without an end.
The bruiser poem is and reflects his truth of how
the world affects him and the people around him.
A man of substance having youthful aspirations.
He cannot tell he is clothed with iron, he has sensations.
The painful probing that time brings along.
And in silence, he makes strength his belief.
The bruiser poem sows or starts its root.
You don’t always wrestle with muscle.
In some cases, courage appears in disappearance.
A bruiser understands that there are some times
that it’s important for him to remain steady.
But when he allows himself to seek peace.
His tales resonate, and with a loud clear voice.
Yet deep inside one will find hope that is genuine.
Thus are ready to express for bruisers rise and bruisers heal.
Their love and strength are genuine all the time.
This is a story of substance in the form of bruiser poem.
Of shattered pieces that still returns full.
‘A life which i bends but does not snap’.
This is in a bruiser’s heart, because everything has a potential of
being re-built, including parts as essential as the capability to make.