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The Gazelle's Last Race

Racing past tawny grasses The breath of the enemy Forming mist on my neck Snapping ivory jaws at my heels Breathing, struggling, Leaping off the ground Finish just ahead, Enemy just behind My adversary, surges Myself, slacken Overrun, overtaken, stopped The enemy finishes on top, Sinking the claws of defeat Into my conquered flesh.
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Written by
kimberle-killips
American
Published
Oct 6, 2010
Lines·Words
21·54
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