when did the whistle even blow? i couldn't tell, but before i knew it i was running (like) my life depended on it. i didn't know why, but my legs kept holding me up from the ground i continued to run alone and a few miles later i see others on the same pathβa competition? i didn't know. every second, every minute was the same i kept running further and further and the air seemed to get more suffocating, the sky a little less blue; me running in my tattered shoes. time passed excruciatingly long and passed by, without me knowing, in a blink i was still ignorant, not knowing why i was running where i was going and how I ended up more on the ground rather than up in the air when everyone else was still running and my knees hurt, the ground feels better than before, an escape from this marathon it's not worth running i watch as everyone passes me by, one glance i have not another choice, like before, i go back into my running stance i might be a bit slow shoulders hanging, chin down as i lie low pushing away wishes of starting with a bicycle hoping there's the finish line, that i'm not running in circles before i know it, i'm back on my feet why, how and for what i don't know still, still the marathon doesn't end like the thoughts in my mind it's 24/7 thinking back to when the whistle blowed do i know why i run? when i'll stop? whether this is all just for fun? i know the answer still i don'tβi can't stop βnope.
first poem on this website! hope i can find more poets and post more poems hehe~