Returning to the pits.
Thinking of this to be a brief stop,
To refuel, retire and re-energize their lives.
But back into a race they get.
Hoping to win, place or show...
For a trophy that will eventaully collect dust.
To be praised as something 'to die for'.
With a life to live that goes ignored.
Rocking back and forth reminiscing,
The speed of it all.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem