Painfully golden sun
Runs over the dark brown pasture
Of tranquil summer.
Enlarged double sevens on its waist
And brimming black waves
Striding ahead of me.
What follows after is,
Deadly disfigured disgusting dust.
Grains as sharp as broken glass
Shatter and splash,
Ripping and untangling every little vein
As they revolve inside my two eyes.
For once I-
I wanted to run on the same line.
But being one's mere wish it is,
The scar from yesterday
Edges its piercing blade against my mane,
Pilling every inch of my skin,
Delivering its pain
Across the entire system.
Audience screams as he reaches the white belt.
He was just- just born like that-
Effortless and fortunate.
Yet he snorts as if he owns the world.
Behind him,
My frayed crimson hooves howl in the shadow.
Once again-
I'm on the starting line,
Spurting towards the unseen finishing point
Of a never-ending race.