The Race

I feel my feet pounding down on the ground
 

The crowd is cheering but I hear not a sound
 

The clock is ticking as time flies past
 

My breathing gets harder as I go fast
 

My legs start to numb as I get tired
 

My arms do hurt and my feet feel like fire
 

I pick up my pace as I run round the bend
 

Just a straightaway left, I am nearing the end
 

I feel the relief as I cross the finish line
 

And let out a grin because first place is mine

This poem is about: 
Me

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