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Rated: E · Poetry · Activity · #1344033
A poem of the stuggle of running.
The red track intimidates me; the soft pavement cradles the sole of my shoes.
On your mark, Get set, Go!
My breaths turn ragged, with shortening intervals between gasps for air.
My eyes begin to water and sting from the sweat beading down my face.
My legs scream at me, hurting against the agonizing pain I’ve thrust on them.
The pace quickens.
Everyone moves faster ahead, increasing the gap between us.
My feet slap the pavement with strides of torture and defeat.
I have to catch up.
I’m going too slow, I need to fasten my pace.
My lungs are tied in knots,
Blood pumps through my heart pounding for me to slow down.
They are finished, sitting on the sidelines, waiting for me to come in.
They sit cheering, but I can’t see past the mocking faces that aren’t there.
I can’t make it.
It’s too far for me to finish.
But I can’t give up now, I’ve come too far.
The finish line is insight now, moving closer with every stride I take.
I cross the line.
My ragged breaths slow to a silent sigh of relief.

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