Original Poem: We.
It is whether He is friend or foe
For which I contend and which, for me, cannot be known.
I suppose when I am a friend to me,
It is that also He seems to be.
When I and me do not agree, however,
He has not been a party to me, no...never.
I accept Him as a friend, or so endeavor,
But for me, His foeship is all too clever.
He and I have been planning for some time.
Myself misunderstanding what we will do.
For me and my line,
We strive to continue.
He and I have been perfecting a rhythm, a rhyme.
He taps His toes in half time.
My hope is to hit the up beat.
Though His down is stronger than mine.

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