Sun blazing on the 157 foot concrete,
towering…
Glaring at our circular jail,
preparing…
Marching forward,
stopping at the gates.

Claps and cheers hovering above my helmet,
chanting…
Gates moving towards the heavens I wish to be sent to,
creaking…
Stumbling onto scorched arena sand,
gripping my sword.

Walking on burnt earth beneath my laced feat,
advancing…
Blades clashing, dark blood spilling
slashing…
Spartacus winning today,
searching for the sky.

Lifeless limbs laying beside me,
Guilting…
Citizens roaring, drunk on blood,
floating…
Pleading for forgiveness,
praying to God.

Running from the scene,
dragging…
Cleaning by fellow slaves,
crying…
Pushing onto my feet,
the second round beginning .