Combat Sarong

This sash is made of memories

emotions and things pulled from times

good and bad

It hangs loose on my body, it used to restrict me

round about a few times, I pull it taut when you come close

Silat started as a form of mysticism

Even the bad things I hold close

the things you try to forget, they make me who I am

I can take you down with just a flick of the wrist

The sash will wrap around you

spooling comfort

until it gets pulled a bit, restricting like an anaconda