Mom says I should stop running from my problems. I couldn’t hear her over the sound of my sneakers hitting the asphalt and my heart pounding in my ears.
Mom says I should slow down but I’ve been just out of arms reach for so long. I can’t see the finish line yet, but I’m winning at a full sprint.
When my endurance falters, I will lose.
But until I grow weak, Id run until my lungs shriveled into rasins and my legs collapsed beneath me and then as my knees met the concrete I would meet my demise in the form of the demons who’ve been chasing me in this foot race for years