I move forward,
to the prize I move toward;
Though the earth is shaking,
people around talking
Some cheering, some jeering
to make me stop running;
Still, I’ll keep at my race
quickening my pace.

And though my legs get heavy,
my eyes become dizzy,
my body become lazy
wanting baby treatment.
Though the wind blows harshly
– Yet I’ll run towards the trophy;
The ultimate prize.
Forward; forever I’ll go

Favour is a simply complicated individual, born in a simple yet complicated world. He gains pleasure in fixing his world by words and writing.
Twitter:: @Favour_Skills

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