Fight! Fight! Fight!

I'm sure a psychiatrist would have a field day with the fact that the first thing I thought of when I saw today's prompt - "swing" - was boxing. And people think I am so nice....

Come out swinging - 
Good advice.
I seldom follow it,
Holding back,
Easy and nice.

Biding my time - 
Lie in wait.
Big fellas swinging,
Hard-hitting
Underestimate.

Think me easy.
Wear them down,
Keep 'em swinging.
Duck and parry,
Weave around.

You're too close, mate,
Now you're mine,
Dance in stinging,
Hard and heavy,
Double-time.

Press advantage
- Child's play!
Jab and uppercut,
Put 'em down
Walk away.

No doubt a psychiatrist would have a field day with that poem as well. Now, I know that in boxing one doesn't really swing. Or, if one is swinging, it is probably a haymaker, and while that can be effective occasionally, it really does leave one wide open. Therefore, you will notice that the narrator does not swing.

I am also going to be completely honest and admit that the majority of my boxing experience comes from watching The Cinderella Man and taking jabs at my sister's head...both her real head and also this head:

What I was actually describing was my fencing style. I was a short female in a group of tall men, who obviously had the advantage of a far longer reach than I had. They could, in theory, kill me before I got close enough to even chop off their hands. So I never bothered to get close until they did. I defended and kept them moving, and the second they got too close, I was inside their guard. That territory was mine. I'd kill them off pretty quickly at that point.

And now I'd best stop, before that pesky psychiatrist freaks out and locks me up for my own safety, and that of others.

Good night.