Thu, 07/17/2014 - 14:49 -- NadiaDJ

Stand tall, speak with grace, never crumble because I am going to win this race.          

I may be the tortoise and you the hare but look who finished the race with breath to spare.

There is no one like me. Call it conceited, give me looks, roll your necks but you're not going to be my crook.

I feel your eyes wishing me harm, but I will prevail consider yourself warned.  

I statred this race with wrong intentions trying to look the best but not really feeling it. 

The hurdles of life towered over my body, taunting me to run away. 

But little did they know I  here to stay. 

I am still running this race but I know on my heart

I'm #winning and that's a start. 

Guide that inspired this poem: 


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