A training dummy is most certainly
No dummy when manipulated by
A puppeteer of royal pedigree
Who reconstructs its parts with Doctor Blythe.
Whenever limbs are broken off and torn,
Head guillotined like in its final fight
By antlings freshly synthesized and born,
In no time it shall be sewn and upright.
Its patchwork scars are something to behold
When witnessed by a child who's long assumed
That this embrace would not be quite so cold
Nor this reunion misery-consumed.
All overconfidence is doomed to fail
When faced with tragedy beyond the pale.