Passers By
¶ 1
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There it stands bold and gleaming
On it’s podium out from it’s case
Awaiting similar faces beaming
From winning a tiring race.
¶ 2
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Pasted with streaks of light
Adding to it’s myth
Built up over passionate nights
Crystallised in riffs.
¶ 3
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A symbol of great success
Belongs to the victors so
The losers free from duress
Saved by a whistle’s blow.
¶ 4
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But the losers still have to walk
Past the cup and it’s sick smell
Invading the senses and talk
Turns to ‘If only we did quell
Those enemies of ours’
This prize would be in their hands
But now it only mocks
With it’s horrible smile
And they hang their heads
To take their medals
And give spiritless glances
As they pass by.
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