Run, even when
the jeers are too loud
your legs feels like they will
fall off, and pain stabbing with
every footsteps that land on the ground.

Keep going, leave marks
unseen or careless
you are the one who will bite
your own fruit of labour.

(don't think about the flavor. if it tasted too much like your blood, swallow)

the dogs, rabid and feral
they will chase you
but they will cower when you show them
your gleaming teeth
all animals know to fear beasts,
especially the caged ones.

Let the wind, shake you up
bring a noose made of what ifs
and the trials that you endures
undulating coils filled with every
rejection that sneak itself into your ribs.

There are cracks on your sole,
some runs through your back
dividing your temple and circling your neck
bending down to your lips, dangles like
the consequences of reality
oozing colors but never spirit.

Run, keep running
until you burn up,
burned up and there is
nothing left but footmarks
on hard stone.

(Water is patience that you drink, but Fire is what we all breathe)