Poem- To Win Everything

There’s a rare song,
the cuckoo might sing.

It doesn’t come easy,
but it has a good ring.
It needs less of feet,
and more of the wing.
Your blood it might spill,
your nerves it may wring.
It teaches you to lose,
it makes you face dying.
It’s like you enter a restaurant,
to reluctance you mustn’t cling.
Imagine your worst fears, decide your order.
Don’t look at the waiter,
To your table, this platter
you yourself have to bring.
The crux of the matter,
is that winning is important,
but the catch is-
To win everything,
you must lose everything.

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