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The Bout

In his corner, boots and trunks, 
Trying to look brave, 
Eyeing me both down and up 
Wondering if I'll cave 
To his demeaning, bullying gaze 
His pecs and biceps pump 
Hoping that his menacing stare 
Will cause my throat to lump.

But I, though leaner, can deceive, 
Good tactics I will use, 
My lithe and supple, agile form 
Will aid, to him abuse. 
With 'pins' and 'clothesline', 'headbutt', 'kick', 
And 'diving elbow drop', 
Weakened by my high 'back kick' 
With final 'backhand chop'.

He tries his best to rally round 
To submit, he'll not yield, 
The ref, though, sees his flailing arms 
Decides, he must concede. 
But undeterred and utt'ring threats 
A rematch he insists 
He leaves the ring, frustrated mood 
While pumping iron fists.

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