Tug of War
I grab the rope,
The flag quivering in the air.
My opponent has a stronghold
And he never lets go.
I will yank.
I will pull.
When an inch comes my way
And I feel that I am close to being in control,
I am yanked back to the middle,
But never completely in the middle,
For he always has a little over me.
And he will never let go.
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