Streets That Race Poem by Magod Scroef

In the heart of the city where dreams embrace,
The beating pulse of streets that race.
A symphony of engines intertwined,
As restless souls chase their piece of mind.

On asphalt tracks, they come alive,
The fearless drivers, ready to drive.
Engines roar, tires screech and squeal,
As they slice through the air, with speed so surreal.

From the neon-lit boulevards they depart,
Their spirits ignited, a fire in their heart.
Their foot on the pedal, their eyes on the prize,
They navigate the chaos, as time flies.

The asphalt canvas becomes their stage,
As they weave and dance in a daring rage.
Like daredevils they skim, with grace and zest,
Through narrow lanes, to prove they are the best.

The city lights flicker like a spectator's cheer,
As they blur into streaks when the racers appear.
Through tunnels and bridges, they dash with might,
Every turn, every corner, they conquer with delight.

Adrenaline pumps, emotions run high,
As the racers push limits, reaching for the sky.
Their hearts beat fast, their souls intertwine,
As they race against time, as if it's a crime.

The asphalt expanse becomes their domain,
Where limits are tested, boundaries they disdain.
They fly like the wind, leaving trails of dust,
With every rev of the engine, they earn their trust.

But beneath the thrill, lies a yearning deep,
For freedom and purpose, they tirelessly seek.
For these streets that race, they hold a truth,
That life is a journey, not for the meek.

So let the streets echo with their symphony,
As the racers embrace their chosen destiny.
For in this dance with speed, they find release,
On the streets that race, where bliss finds its peace.