The Tyre

The stench of burnt rubber drifts in the air,
Its once smooth surface now rough
It has spent days in the harsh, evolving weather,

Paint smudged on the side walls
While still following the racing laws

They have got to the podium on many occasions,
And met the barrier numerous times,
They have been sliding, slipping and suffering on the tarmac
Punished by 12 year olds on the track