A lake, an ocean, a large expanse,
Of something fluid and cold.
I will keep on treading water,
Until I’m just too old.
I will keep on keeping on,
Until I hit the fire.
As drawn as I may feel,
And as much as I may tire,
Take three steps back, or trip,
I will not throw in towel.
I may not have the lungs to roar,
But, rest assured, I growl.
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