My hands position the shaft against the string
The tight-stretched thong that strains under such tension
Hindering the further spread
I bring it up beside my mouth
Holding it firm before it slides away
The shaft will soon speed towards the waiting butt
Set up with its central target clearly marked
It will sink in deeply such that only the fletching shows outside
Feathers from the shaft's back end
And I will gladly find the bullseye again and again
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