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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #1134261
Life ends in death. Yep.
I see the finish line - I lag behind.
I stop for any reason I can find -
When parched lips beg for fresh'ning potion clear
To drink, or when my laces come untied.

I always go much slower than my pace,
I never feel the sweat run down my face;
I smile as fellow runners in a rush
Pass by - I do not want to win this race.
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