The strive in life is forever a race
We line to hear the sound of barking guns
We in sprinting blocks, the sweat in face
Because we know we have to be number one

We feel that spark, arise to sprinter’s stance
The hands to box the air, to grab that inch.
We fall behind, and think we lost that chance.
And then we see the one in  front of us flinch

This chance  is close  and so illustrious
The finish line is coming up too fast to stop.
As we approach, a burst of legs beats us.
And we receive medals, but not the top.

To have the grace in loss is important
Because winning is great, but its better to be a sportsman.