Sublime Dutiful Needs

I can see the blood rush, and the consciousness drip away. With ever exertion of might and will, nothing can carry him past the line to the finish. Each step comes down harder than the last. His feet begin to drag and the limbs slowly become lifeless, just an addition of dead weight as the legs drag the torso around. Nothing in his eyes but emptiness like the ground around him. Colored, but without soul, his eyes show only his strife. I can see him near the end. Nothing still. His exhaustion can be seen in every little part of his existence. All he wants to do is stop, collapse and rest for eternity. No physical strain is worth this pain.