A whistling in the air,

Sat, 02/01/2020 - 12:18 -- Gsxr600

A whistling in the air,

powerful, thirsty, compelling one to stare.

A shift of a gear, and away he flies,

a blur in one's eyes.

A scream of power, of love unseen,

as he rushes down the mountain ravine.

Speed limits behind, more speed ahead.

And that was the day, he woke up dead.

This poem is about: 
Me

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