Add me to the list of show horses who've kissed a gun

I'm tired of beeing the beaten one.
No fun.

Sick of beeing the last man to run
I feel like eventually I'll amount to someone
But till that day I'm just a body.
My sports have become  hobies
Sleeping in hotel lobies.
Giving gobbies for coins
There is no fruit in my *****
Just an ache that lies in the wake of my discrimination.
Acting alongside my procrastination
No longer will my forehead bead with
Precipitation

I have become a man that could disappoint a nation