Everything has stopped being.
But my runs have picked up pace
Beads of sweat running down my face,
A cold chill running down my spine,
My heart throbbing against my chest with zest,
Like a chameleon on a feeble twig;
And days going by without real progress.
I have been running like the old messenger
Towards nothing but away from the enemy.
I try to find solace from the unknown
But the more I do, the more it scares.
Peace of mind from the sketches
The sketches I run away from -
Sacrificing all good things behind me.
My mirror has turned against me,
My confidence quailed beyond belief.
I see no truth in the lateral inversion.
I see a good face and not the enemy.
Months and years spent running and seeking
Now I see the lucifer stroking his beard,
Running with me wherever I go,
Eating, thinking, staying with me at all times.
I am my own enemy.
I am that foeman I have been evading.
The foe standing between me and success
It does not trouble me how to rid myself of I.
This morning, I am facing the bull by his horns
To get myself back, I am tearing my enemy apart
And running back towards my sweet past
Right after this full stop.