I run a race,
I must admit.
I have to win,
I cannot quit.
To hold the prize,
would set me free.
Words cannot explain,
what it means to me.
So I run hard,
and I run fast.
To be the first,
and not the last.
I look behind,
to not be passed.
The tape alone,
my hands must grasp.
All will forget who's next.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
well you are truly one of a kind so you have won that one. we all have our silent races we want to win, some dont know its inside them yet while others are just finding it within. good job. Becca