The Prestige of Glory

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic

There it is, a prise, It goes past my eyes, So i reach out and turn my self into a dedicated goal, Where it the only thing I know

So here I am

My heart it's beating, everthing travling slow

But everything stops besides my flow

and at the Grasp, of The clear, And The raw

It's a crowd I climb
Over take em all

Where I rise above the rest

And move before they do

With reflexes so quick

I Listen steady

Quickly at hast

Developing tactical decions at plenty

Claiming my prsie I do

Where you will stay

what it is that breaks a man in two

Where thus will not be me who know this fait of a loser like you


Submitted: January 19, 2022

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