Run

Run

I have spent my whole life running.

Not from places,

but from the parts of myself

I wasn’t brave enough to name.

People talk about escape

like it’s a road you can follow,

like it’s something you do with your feet.

But the cruelest kind of running

happens when you sit still,

when you bury yourself beneath

distractions and conversations,

smiling like you don’t feel the fire

at your heels.

I ran from the heaviness in my chest,

from the ghosts in my throat

that no one else could hear.

I ran from the grief

that came without a face,

from the memory of a voice

I can no longer recall

but somehow still mourn.

And the thing about running

is that the further you go,

the more you realize

you were never being chased.

It was always you.

Your own shadow.

Your own unfinished sentences.

The ache you promised

you’d deal with tomorrow.

But no one ever tells you

that eventually,

you’ll tire.

And when you do,

you’ll find yourself face to face

with everything you swore

you could outrun.

And in that quiet,

when your lungs burn

and your legs tremble,

you’ll understand:

It was never about leaving.

It was about learning

how to stay.

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

Facing one’s own demons is the hardest thing to do, but what a triumph when you conquer them one by one. Takes courage, but it can be done. Your final stanza, such a positive on the pathway to healing. Very nicely conveyed.

Chris

[M 💕]

Thank you so much for your review! :)

[Curly Grace]

There’s a quiet honesty in this. The way running becomes a mirror instead of an escape, that last turn toward staying lands with real grace.

[M 💕]

Thank you for your kind review ! :)