TUG OF WAR
A wrench from one side starts a woundThe opposing breaches the heart
Back and forth my body's swooned
Despite all judgment now being lost
Indecisiveness at its point
A sharpened one at that
My horrid traits conjoint
As good mushes with bad
Once again, i'm not certain what i want
A puppet far from perfection
Once second i do, next i don't
There must be some defection.
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