It kind of comes on slowly.
I try to recall the times before I could hear the creak of
my pounding heart
so clearly
Why can I not recall the taste of innocence, nor love, nor
the way my mother use to cradle me
Why were these so jagged now..
Rougher than the surface we tried to scratch, which only
wounded me in return
As my pace increases, the thump of my heart becomes the
soundtrack of my life
Ironic how my anthem enjoys the songs of pain
He likes you at your weakest.
He likes your company.
Why do I run?
Why do we run?
Why do we attempt in escaping the inevitable
What is confrontation? What is understanding.
All this generation knows is running.
My heart sewn into my arties, veins, mind, and soul.
She takes care of me, yet I have brought her the greatest,
aching pain.
She beats so beautifully, in the only tone she has ever
known
Execution.
She executes her job, what she knows she has to do.
Why do I run?
Why am I so intelligent yet so foolish
The day she stops executing what she has always done and her
mind is at rest, mine will be up in the clouds wondering why I fed the creak
ever so constantly.
Caro you are an amazon writer. keep up the good work!
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