I am running.
          Betting on time.

Dodging obstacles and crouching in the shadows.
  
           Running from the things chasing me.
                            Running from my true form.

Not knowing who I am
Where I am
Where I am going.

Only knowing that one day the journey will end.
And equally wanting more time, and then less.
           Secretly betting on both

So it turns into a game
A game were nothing seems real.

And over time I begin to feel no meaning,
        Only breath the thrill of the game.

And I turn every corner,
        no longer with stealth.
Or hope that there is no obstacle.

But daring the trap to corner me in,
Snap down on my being,
And let me feel that one feeling I am being deprived of.

                                     Conviction