Run

 

And your head

is like

a windswept plain.

 

On the horizon

a threat of rain.

 

You wish

to run and run,

for pain is no fun

and fear leaves a stain.

 

But right here

in the blistering sun

you are blinded,

as streaming tears

run and run.

But behind heavy,

stinging eyes,

you feel something

unearthed.

 

You want to run and run.

 

And the world

is a loaded gun,

always pointed

at your head.

 

And you want to run.

And run and run.

 

Somewhere far away.

Far from

the threat of pain,

the threat of rain.

 

But you know

this world holds

no shelter

from the strain within.

 

And you want to feel

the rushing pavements,

the puddles exploding

as your weighted soul

meets the solid ground.

 

And you want to run and run.

 

Escape sounds like the answer,

it sure sounds better than being

ground under the soles of someone.

 

And you put one foot in front of the other.

 

And you pound on the ground.

And the first steps feel good.

 

You realise

the rain has come,

and you run into the flood,

feeling the surge of lifeblood

flow over you.

 

And you want to run,

not to escape,

but to feel again.