I walk on,
For I'm the only one on the street,
All is quiet at 1:35 a.m.,
As I try to clear my head.

Afraid of failure,
Afraid of the walls,
As they slowly close in,
Constricting tighter and tighter,
Running out of options,
Running out of air.

I will try to not kid myself as I begin to pick up pace,
That smooth voice still pouring out at the back of my mind,
My pace picks up yet again.

A trot,
Could barely count as a run,
But the slight relief of the gentle breezes is all I need to spun me further,
Faster and faster,
As the tempo picks up a second time.

It's all I can do to keep it below a sprint,
As my lungs start feeling dry and hot,
My heart ratcheting it's beat up to a whole nother level.

The walls start to fall away as I finally break free,
If only for a little while longer.