Hand-to-hand Combat

A cycle of poems «Mother Russia Is Calling!»

Sweat stings my eyes, the air thick with fight
Muscles burnin', fueled by primal light
No steel, no gun, just flesh against flesh
A dance of death, a dangerous mesh

Hand-to-hand, a brutal ballet
Bones crackin', hearts beatin' away
Willpower's weapon, adrenaline's surge
In this close-quarters war, there's no room to urge

The rhythm of punches, a thunderous sound
Each strike a message, on sacred ground
A parry, a dodge, a calculated move
Fighting for survival, nothing to prove

Hand-to-hand, a brutal ballet
Bones crackin', hearts beatin' away
Willpower's weapon, adrenaline's surge
In this close-quarters war, there's no room to urge

The pain is a whisper, a constant refrain
But the fire within, refuses to wane
Grit and determination, a warrior's creed
In this deadly embrace, plant the seed

Hand-to-hand, a brutal ballet
Bones crackin', hearts beatin' away
Willpower's weapon, adrenaline's surge
In this close-quarters war, there's no room to urge

The fight is a fury, a tempest unleashed
Till the final breath, the victor deceased
Hand-to-hand, a dance with the grave
A testament to courage, a story to save.