Palms sweat.
The crowd of mirrors buzzes
softly
like something half forgotten.
Memory.
Her heart is pounding
shoulda, coulda's
She reaches both hands into the sky
and grabs two fists of hope
with A bit of courage mixed in
hops
left foot
to right. She stops
to think, but knows
there is no use.
Hand spread
she breathes a lung full
of insecurities out.
Laces are set
nothing too 'too'
this is the time for 'just right'
Feet in the blocks
A whistle blows or
is it a gun?
It doesn't matter
Thoughts scatter
Vying for the prize
is all there is.
The distant darkness
shows brightly only
when after she has passed.
The crowd is booing.
heckles, snarks
Verbal and emotional pro-
jectiles fly
Her lungs are burning
'round a bend
Someone's in her
peripheral
So legs keep turning
hoping, striving
seconds crawl as
she rushes through
the air and time.
There is no sound
save the constant angry din
Opens her eyes
The constant racing
doesn't end.
Here's to you, if you stick around. Its about to get much muchier.
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