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The Race

Cars cruise down the track

Rubber burns on impact

Asphalt, newly placed

Hits a spectator in the face



As the laps go by

Legs and arms begin to fly

Why, why, why



Fans begin to scream

Someone drops their ice cream

Another slips and cracks their head

Oops, oh no, another spactator dead



The race is done

Car 85-B has won

In the midst of al the fun

The winner is shot with his gun

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem is not meant to be fuunt. Instad, it is meant to be a look at some of the dangers of racing. This poem was also only written by me (ie: the rhyming). I collaberated with Riscann Belyk (a  friend of mine). She came up the content and I put it into words. Just wanted to get that out of the way so that people know where this is coming from.

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last updated 12 October 2010 - 5:50am
©4 September 2004 - 2:34am — tylerp