Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 on Unsplash
I pull and pull, the weight is great,
A burden heavy with stubborn fate.
The rope is taut, it digs in deep,
Each tug a battle, steep on steep.
Muscles strain, and breath runs short,
In this relentless, silent sport.
The earth resists, unyielding, firm,
As I pull, I twist, I squirm.
The end seems near, but never comes,
A task unending, like distant drums.
Hands grow weary, and grip grows thin,
But giving up would be a sin.
Until I find that hard-earned peace.
About the Creator
Abbas
Versatile writer skilled in both tale & stories. Captivate readers with engaging content & immersive narratives. Passionate about informing, inspiring, & entertaining through words.
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