Shoving hours to mold days,
And days to build weeks,
I walked on the path of thorns,
Of the immeasurable sharpness,
As I made the bid to pre-run,
For the race to the house,
Where all the athletes longed to destinate
I upheld the faith and pressed,
While some took refuge,
Under the trees of mellowed fruits,
Receiving the pleasure of fruits and shades,
I gave them a cold shoulder and rolled
The race walked in,
With its officials armed with tracks and boots,
All handed to us to contest.
On our marks we waited,
As we held the breath to hear the echo
In a bang it called out,
And we all took to the feet,
In the pursuit of the house,
Where the end mark laid.
I was swifter than a deer,
As the fans' chants carried me away,
I left the rest as stagnant poles on the way
I saw the touchline so nigh,
Just a stride and the medal would be mine.
Determined, I rolled on,
As the spectators chanted in upheaval,
For I had tasted the victory well deserved,
I waited for the medal in ultimate anticipation,
For I knew the paths I trailed for it.
With all smiles and hopes I turned back,
To wave thanksgiving to my fans for the work well done,
Turning forward I saw my pursuer extol,
As the medal entangled on his neck.
I buried my head in profound astonishment,
While the buffs erupted into abyss.
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