Fighting the urge to run.
Not sure where it came from.
All I know
is that I was not afraid
when sleep came over me.
Stopping at every sound.
Startling at innocent gestures.
So much to confound
and confuse me in my measures.
Stop it,
and start it.
And stop it,
and start it,
again.
Close my eyes before the fist,
clenched up like a blow incoming,
but the punch never lands,
and I spend the rest of my childhood
waiting for the blow to fall.
It never seems to come.
No knockout punches this round,
just a thousand jabs to my subconscious.
No wonder I want to run.
No wonder I want to fight.
Mired in my own mind.
Feet stuck in the dissolution.
Stop it,
and start it.
And stop it,
and start it,
again.
Try to build a perfect life.
Try to paint a pretty picture,
but it all goes to shit,
and I am left,
a broken vessel.
All the good inside
leaks out through cracks in my armor.
Guess I should have run.
Not sure how much fight I have left in me.
Doesn’t matter.
Doesn’t care.
The next round is coming.
In this world, or the next.
I know I’m not done with struggling.
Give it my best
and I know
I am capable
of better still.
I can’t give up
and I don’t believe
I will.
I’ll keep fighting.
I’ll keep running.
I’m not stopping.
I keep starting
over and over again.
DJR – 2023
