The Race Against Life

by th3beezkn33z

Published April 18, 2012

In Poems

Lost and alone the feeling grows,

Day by day as she tries to play,

This game they call life.

She won’t go down without a fight,

She’s trying to see the light.

The darkness hovers near,

She cowers in fear.

Sparks of hope cannot be found in her dull and lifeless eyes,

She tries and tries,

but in the end she always dies a little more inside.

Her efforts were great but never enough,

For life was far too rough.

She always knew she couldn’t do it alone,

But the help she found only helped her drown,

In her own self-pity and lack of self-worth.

She knew she’d have a new tomorrow,

But what if she changed a day too late?

Had she already lost the race?

 

Comments & reviews · 1
User avatar
WritingWolf
Review
WritingWolf wrote a review Review · Feb 24, 2013

This is a really great piece. I don't think there really is much to critique.
I'm kinda wondering what would have inspired this?

I feel the truth in this. The way life is a constant race, and slowly it kills us, till the day we actually die. This actually opens up a lot of ideas in my mind.

I feel that a lot of the characters I've created for my various story ideas would really relate to this.

It was a lovely piece. I hope that that the lack of reviews doesn't discourage you, because there is only one reason I can see for this being the only review, there simply isn't much to say about this piece other than it's beautiful and amazing. But just saying that sounds sorta cheesy, doesn't it?

Keep up the good work!!

Thank you so much! I'm not really sure what inspired it. Perhaps a time in my own life? I just kinda wrote it and not sure where it came from, haha.
Thank you so much for the review, I was a little worried everyone hated it from the lack of reviews. I really appreciate it!



"The trouble with Borrowing another mind was, you always felt out of place when you got back to your own body, and Granny was the first person ever to read the mind of a building. Now she was feeling big and gritty and full of passages. 'Are you all right?' Granny nodded, and opened her windows. She extended her east and west wings and tried to concentrate on the tiny cup held in her pillars."
— Terry Pratchett, Discworld: Equal Rites