I run, but running only lasts so long.
Running from telling my parents.
Running from the truth.
Running from love.
Running from hate.
Running from support.
Running from bullies.
Running from life.
Running from death.
Running from the darkness.
Running from mistakes.
Running is a way to cope for some people. Running is a trap for others. For me, running is a terrifying joy I feel that if i run long enough I will end up at the end. The end of the world, the end of time, the end of life. It will be too late one day, too late to speak, too late to hope, too late to stop running. I've run all the miles I can, now I must own up to the mistakes i've made. Mistakes that i've made too long ago to fix, because I ran, ran away, ran from. My aunt tells me to stop running, but I can't hear her, i've gone too far to hear anybody. When I stop to rest I have to face the problems I have made. Every breath could be my last, I could make it my last, but I won't. For I still have so much life to live, at least for now. Until they get mad, until I am on the street begging for food, because I wasn't good enough for my parents.
Edited by Julian Ali
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