drafts

Wrestling Getting up at 830 in the cold winter morning to go practice, I greet you when I walk in the door. The running team sounds like a stampede of wild animals. My shoes grip the mat is like a bug stuck on a windshield. The howling of the wind, Sounds as the ref blowing the whistle to start the match. Blood, sweat, and tears which makes us drive. The yelling and screaming witch makes us thrive. Adrenaline pumping from the entanglement with my opponent. As lights shine down on the mat like stars in space. Gigantic battles like mangled leaves blowing in the wind. We all have one goal, To win.