The Race

17 January 2011

I ran more than a hundred kilometer per hour.
I hustled, tasted my sweat, and it’s salty and sour.
So I squeezed the handgrip and pushed to its limit.
I leave no choice but to win the race, I know it’s sweet.

Then I was on my third turn when I lose the control.
I wiggled, zigzagged, but still managed the road.
So I hit again the fuel and moved like a falling star,
it’s my time to shine, and this race is like a war.

Two laps to go when an accident happened on the track.
It was not me, but the rider who’s tailing at my back.
His tires are busted and he was thrown to the ground,
smashed his chest by his bike and thunder’s the sound.

He was rushed to the hospital like we never expected.
The ambulance was in the race between life and death.
The race was stopped but it was just for a while.
Checkered flag was waved, I won but no smile.

I headed to the hospital as fast as I could.
I need to see my friend before anything is to be told.
Happy I was and my smile is for real, I am sure.
He is okay; the doctor said that his condition’s secure.

kenn jimena

* original image appears in link

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