By Piol Tiek Awer
My physique,weak
My courage,tons
My opponent,strong.
Run,I should
Fight,I must
Win,the ultimatum.
Left and right I look
Back and forth I pace
Sharp and positioned, my spears
Low and guarded, my head.
Hurray, Hurray, they sing
He’s dangerous, I’m cautioned
You’re dead meat, he threatened
Off to the ground, he fell; dead.
Victory, mine.
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