The Death of A Dream

My face lies bloody in the ring.
How did I get here to such a place?
Can I place it to one single thing?

I grew up poor, my father giving my face regular sting.
One day I stumbled upon his old trophy case.
My face lies bloody in the ring.

I once played baseball, but had an imperfect swing.
After school one day, I stumbled upon a wondrous place.
A boxing trainer’s gym, named “Bada Bing”.

He liked me a lot and tried me out in the ring.
I was a natural, regularly coming in first place.
My face lies bloody in the ring.

I began fighting professionally, I thought I had wings.
Many times, my mouth was left with a very bad taste.
I became world champion, developing many a fling.

But someone came along, casting a shadow in my beam.
I couldn’t resist a fight with him. What a waste.
My face lies bloody in the ring.
Maybe, someday, again I’ll be king.