Enemy
My old bike
With broken spokes and pike.
I could not master
Or even go faster.
Rhythm was not mine
I couldn't ride in a straight line.
So my bitter foe
He hurt my shin and my toe.
Training wheels were a need
Advice I never did heed.
Handle bars were let go
Balance did not grow.
Goodbye bike, I walk every mile
With more than a cheerful smile.
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