There is no finish line

There is no big success

No more reason to run

And no reason to doubt

That life was a lie to confess

This world is a contest,

Which has grown grotesque

With the fact that people run

To nothing, lungs worn, shoes torn

Heart banging on the chest.

This is a mess

I’ll die fed up

Play this little chess

But I’m not a pawn

And everyone wants to be king

No less

But read my crest

It is not to reach the end

Or to do your best

It is to see the life you live

And to live the life of test.