The Encounter

I drag her across the living room floor,
but she still continues to ask for more.
Neighbors listen for an abusing sound,
then stare intently and gather around.

I fight a young girl, who's not my daughter,
some fear this may be some kind of slaughter.
I am quite weary but I cannot bow.
This fight must proceed, I will not quit now.

Her moans and groans seem terribly painful,
but I continue though quite disdainful.
This battle's been won, a glimmer of hope.
The doggie-door opens, gone is the rope.