I´ve shed my thoughts
into the silence of nights
nowhere to run,
I´m holding the gun.

I´m the one
trying to outrun,
hosting the hunt,
running at the front.

I´m my own prey,
gasping for the airway,
catching myself at the bay.

I want to be targeted,
not for you to misinterpret
I´d love to witness
my breath quickness,
how you´d hunt me-
then I´d be free.

With every breath I count,
there are few I miscount,
there´s one I´d steal
from you, to heal.