The Race

Is life a contest or race?

Is the end goal to he first place?

Who decides the finish line or place?

Who judges speed, obstacles or pace?

Seems like winners are chosen by race

Not the one that we run but the color of our face

Rules seems to vary case by case

Some people need more than speed and grace

And some dont run at all they just sit and wait

On the side relaxed not enough energy to wave

Melting from the sun drinking lemonade

So that's why I question if there's a mistake

But there's not it's just life to my dismay

 I'll never question why God made me this way

Even though I run tired I will always be great

No weapon formed no level of hate 

Will slow me or stop me from winning this race

No obstacles thrown will get in my way

At the end of this race I will be okay