Crosscountry By Marcus
The splattering of the mud spatters all over my sparkly face my face gets turned into a cow patch just tasty.The carnet of the river thrashes against the rock.The wailing of the wind cries past my ear making my ear grums explode.Running through the creaky grass making my shoes grese so my feet slip out like a slippery eel.I wonder why I even ran maybe next year it won’t be so mucky.
