The Race

It was a scary time 
I can barely speak it 
The days planned out the night
And all extended, in an endless continuum, before me
Like a horse, who is running a race
Yet is still miles and miles from the finish line
And has no legs for it
So instead lays down on the cool, grassy ground
Eager for rest
And relaxation you could say
And the man atop shouts aloud
But it is no matter

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