I am yet, on the run again,
from a person? No. From a place? No? I say, this is an escape
from myself, my very own being. How can one escape from thy self
you say? Well, dear reader, the truth is, you simply can not and
sadly will not…ever escape. In no way, shape or form can you
escape from the recesses of one's own being, but that won't stop
me from trying.
Now, I know what your
thinking, what thread your coyly weaving in that bright mind of
yours. Why? Why continue to run if my plans were doomed from the
start, knowing that I was destined to fail? Because, I feel fear,
I would say, because I'm human, I would continue, and as long as
this mortal soul remains, clinging to my withering vessel of a
body, I will always continue to have hope.
So, no I will never stop
running, ever running, persistently running, and while I'm doing
so the troubles of my conscience will always be lurking, ever
quiet, always waiting to jump me, in the dark depths of my
psyche. Hunting me down, but never truly getting a grasp of me.
As, long as it is roaming in
the background, it will never gain access, a chance, to linger in
the forefront, but instead prowl
statically in a trance, forever
trampling around the mangy edges.
Surely you see how desperate
this is, I shall never escape, and this wretched truth, I shall
hold ever so painfully till my dying breath, but I refuse and I
would be fool, to let it engulf me.