The Big Point .

I wonder what's the point,

when you've crossed the frickin' finish line,

you have strived to finish the race,

And you're at the finish line,

Cup in hand.


But you still arch your back,

and continue racing,

with spurs continually jabbing the sides

of the confused horse,

For another round,

along with the silent murmurs of the puzzled crowd.

What's the point you ask?

For the camera. Just for the camera.