It gets harder and harder, each and every inches
of us striding alongside the cold wind.
The air is getting thinner, the slope seems so much steeper.
Could we ever make it?

They somehow look better,
don't they?
Those people we met, better equipped,
seemingly leaving us far behind.


for there will be rewards after every sweat we're breaking,
for there will be sweet victory after us believing,
don't give up.

Just, don't give up.

We might be there already,
only a few centimeters before the very tip
of the dream,
we've been dreaming.


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