The Races

Running full pelter

Hot blooded

Hot winded

Glistening wet

Shiny as new dollars

Worth every penny

Going the full distance

Bloodied breathing

I’d wager upon it

Coming full circle

Electric flashes upon grassy’d meadows

By perfectly trimmed and iron clad heavy weights

Not yet wearied

Onlookers stare screaming

Drunken on thrills

Staring down the barrel

As their glistening victors

Lay dead upon the finish line

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