Gasping For Breath

Rot-a-tot,
Rot-a-tot,
Rot-a-tot,
A young pair of feet—
In quick succession,
Hurling forward in
An intolerable inertia, infinite.
Sweat trickling through
The bleeding flesh,
Smarting saltiness prickling into
The pangs of pining pain.
And yet the two feet ran—
Rot-a-tot,
Rot-a-tot,
Rot-a-tot.
Tired, tortured, tormented,
A young pair of feet...
Forgotten why it had started running
But ignoring it desperately!
Throbbing veins everywhere,
Dying to burst,
Throbbing pain everywhere,
Blurry vision looking lost.
Scalding muscles, dragging along,
Almost dead;
Parched tongue dehydrated
And gasping for breath.
Yes, gasping for breath.
Not a minute to pause a bit,
Not a moment to rest—
It has to win and of course be
Better than the best!
And when you thought it was only one,
You take a look around;
Thousand more pairs of young feet—
No, perhaps a Million!
All running blindly towards it,
It—no one knows what,
And yet the young feet keeps on running,
Rot-a-tot,
Rot-a-tot,
Rot-a-tot.