The Prosaic Race

Sombre tales of many a fall,
With stern marks left onto time stall,
And scars laid on a dismal face,
Bear down with failure and disgrace.

New resolve to master life's all,
To answer a bright future's call,
Bestowed by tough survival's grace,
Fades on the way leaving dim trace.


Then as shame leeches and you crawl,
Just to hit rude rejection's wall,
The sobriety of time and place,
Snaps you out of the prosaic race.

Though the main stage made you feel small,
Your contest it is not at all,
As fresh clarity lifts the haze,
The matter's fact smiles on your face.