As my legs weaken
my heart throbs
the goal line is freedom standing like a beaken
my head hurts and bobs
I trip and stumble
placeing a hand on the ground
and regather the ball to save a fumble
the opposition all around
I push up and run harder
eyes full of fire and determination
the opposition looking as if they will comit murder
all eyes on me coming from the nation
10 yardsaway is salvation
the harder i push on the more it hurts
never turning back for fear of negation
my second wind is only coming in short spurts
all the time on the clock has expired
state on the line
as i go on i've never felt this tiered
I crossed the goal line victory is mine
Little something i wrote it aint much but i was board
