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I did everything in my power to win this race.
I cut down on my diet plus I trained night and day.
I watched film, read books and sanitized my mind with thoughts of coming down the stretch
As a matter of fact, I did stretch in reoccurring sequences.
I flushed away my knowledge of all previous pretenses.
This time the car would not run out of gas.
And the solider wouldn’t be wounded as everyone fled past.
I fear for the paradox, but I won’t say I’m scared.
I’m lifted by my teammates but my peers just don’t care.
What does it take see the wind beneath my wings.
Maybe I should fly into your house and swoop up everything.
Or I should initiate shade at those who don’t pity me.
And when they scream for mercy I should relinquish all their dignity.
Make them slaves to my honor, that’ll make them envy me
Or rebuke all their skills so they’ll never touch an MVP
Trophy, is this why I yearn to win so bad?
Has my love become corrupt and made me go mad?
Or what about the fact, when I run I feel released
Like I’m Forrest Gump, I can finally use my feet
As meaning has come for the joints between my knees.
Or when I train, I occasionally crack a smile.
Because life outside the track has been bland for a while.
My coach gives me instruction as if I were his child.
Because when he was in my race he didn’t remember to run wild.
He remembered to sacrifice for all that he loved.
When I’m ready to give in, he sends me a dove.
Then it transforms to the wind beneath my wings.
So when I’m on that last stretch I can hear victory sing.