I often wondered
Was it a curse ?
To be a frontrunner
Where the pain is worst.
Track to field
Cross country..road
Records set
Now are old.
Upon the line
Crouched and ready
Body swaying
Mind is steady.
Gun is fired
I must lead
No one shall pass
Upon my shield.
Body pleading
Pain pain pain
Lactic acid in thighs
Now they scream.
The bell it rings
To shatter thought
One more lap
Not to be caught.
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Author:
nephilim56 (
Offline) - Published: April 26th, 2024 04:33
- Comment from author about the poem: remembering my glory days
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4
Offline)
Comments1
I think it's better to pace yourself.
I try not to over do it.
I think front runners are just born that way
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