Flail, not pale. I sail, but I am not for sale.
I’m fold for the bold. I’m sold and asked to behold.
I bow to bravery. Not to tow, for treachery.
Come summer. Warm breeze brushes my skin.
Wet winter. Onto my anchor, I’d cling. No no to fling.
I meet my cousins at games. Also in the halls of fame.
When humanity burns, I am the fuel of flame.
I have seen it all. Blood, sweat and stealth.
Still I stand tall, for I am the symbol of good, great and wealth.
I am guarded with all the security.
I am the face of nationality.
Some made me colorful, some kept me simple. Either ways, I look rectangle.
Who am I?
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