Blue and Red
The last turn of the course and both cars were sliding.
Both wheel-spinning, both counter-steering,
Both duking it out to see who'd be winning.
A blur of blue and a blur of red,
They screamed at the redline, one edging ahead.
Blue was a wrenchy - knew all that one could.
He'd cranked it to max, stuffed it all in the hood.
Red was a driver - he'd raced every track.
He knew all the angles, knew the points of attack.
Just two seconds to go when the shit hit the fan,
They both tried to save it, but they both kicked the can.
A wreckage of blue and a wreckage of red,
They both got too greedy and were punished instead.
I haven't written one of these in ages. Wouldn't you believe it, I was going to write a post, but for some reason I started rhyming.