Star athlete, benched in a championship
is calmer than I, my anger construed.
The mouse's squeak, that fled when the cat mewed,
a lion's roar, put next to my coy pip.

A man at sea, the foam tossed waves and ship,
I envy his bodily fortitude.
The man in the rope, by all he is viewed,
is downright composed, though I soon shall slip.

Quick trip into jail, short jaunt down to hell,
a battle-born fighter torn out of ink,
drain a whole ocean (herculean chore),
even fight off the beast, in tart'rus dwells;
each task above I would seek in a wink.
I still clench my fist, an inch from your door.

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