Troubled boy looking for a place.
Where to go, what to do, no clue about the race . . .
Guidance needed, too many choices.

Life was good, not much was needed,
no wanting, no needing, the house was full of love . . .
but something was missing.

Are friends really friends if I don’t feel at home?
One minute we play the next we steal . . .
It’s hard to believe that this what it’s supposed to be.

There has to be more, I need more, this can’t be it.
School days came and went, study books and learning of God's . . .
playing games and kicking rocks.

From the corner of my eye I spot a blur.
A man runs past, quick as the wind, direct as an arrow . . .
Why does he run? Where is he going? Is his mind free?

I need to know, can I be a blur?
The Olympics you say? You mystify me . . .
You run and run, faster and longer, day by day until the moment the gun sounds.

Fear leaves, skill takes over,
adrenaline kicks in and you reach for the prize . . .
that feeling of being on top of the world.

This is me, I want this, no, I need this.
Teach me, show me,  and guide me . . .
I’ll be your apprentice, I want to feel the cold metal around my neck.

My fear grows, I’m scared,
I don’t know if I am capable . . .
Is my body able to compete and can my mind overcome?

The gun sounds and the race begins,
Feeling a pain in my leg, ignoring it . . .
The pain turns into a sharp stabbing as I am forced to leave the race . . .