The Biker MAG

By Unknown, Unknown, Unknown

   

The whistling by my ears.

My hair thrust away from my face.

I can feel every crevice in the ground.

Every bump I cross

becomes a part of me.



My legs begin to burn,

I leave a path of flames in my tracks.

There's no turning back now,

I've come too far.



Ahead I go,

not alone.

The two of us,

me and my bike.



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