Baby Gladiator

New-born babies

birthed with helmets

boots,

and spears.

Oh Baby Gladiator

you weren't forced to march

with the others.

You weren't stolen from your crib

and gently placed here.

You crawled here

on your own acord,

But tell me, baby,

how do you expect

to wield the mighty flail?

Will your juvenile sprints

be able to evade the lions'

fangs?

What is it you want

Baby Gladiator?

Whose stunted gaze

do you wish to catch?

Or is it just for the

prize of pulverized

peas you fight?

If I'm to be honest, Baby Gladiator,

we all thought you

a scholar,

a Baby Gladiator of intellect,

one who would help,

not hinder,

but if you'd rather just

wave your broadsword at me

then fight,

fight Baby Gladiator.

Taste the milk of victory!

Gorge on the organic

Sesame Street Cookies of combat!

Tonight you'll be throwing

up on my shoulder.