It's the stress,
The strategy
The war
The opponent
That makes you sweat behind your mask
The only thing to protect your face
From serious injury suffocating you
Foul with the scent of
The agony and tears
Of battles lost, bravely fought
By those who have worn the mask before you
They have passed their experience on to me
As I grip my foil, dull with its thousand bruises
Compared to the opponent's own
Sneering behind his brand-new, untouched mask
And his matching electric foil
Lustrous, gleaming
Reflecting its master's image,
Everything about him impeccably immaculate
Crisp-white linen uniform
With neither a snag nor a metallic foil-mark
To show any evidence of defeat
But it is not defeat that matters
Defeat is inevitable
Maybe tonight things shall change for
Fencing is about
Determination
Stamina
Strategy
Every defeat only adds experience
Experience leads to mastery