The Race
By Dillon Collins
Your mind is trapped within a dream,
your mouth is screaming at the things you have seen,
your look is haunting your face is a blur,
your eyes are glowing your feet are astir.
You hands are trembling as you think of the gun,
your knees are knocking at the race you will run,
your shins are acking as you think of the pace,
your shoulders are jerking all over the place.
The bullets are flying the trials will come,
you fail all the time but you have power in the Son,
Hewill sheild you from the bullets and trials,
and if you ask him he'll walk with you for miles.
We will try hard for the race to be won,
but we still fail all tthe time so we pray to the Son,
even though we hope it's near that the end will finally come,
even though we've been running for years the race has only begun.
