Running, running, always running.
What is it with the running?
Why is that the verb that I,
And all the rest desire?
We want to run!
To get away!
Our own lives never good enough.
The place we sit never feeling right.
We're always searching,
And always wanting,
We feel as if we need it.
But do we?
What if we're wrong
What if right here is just fine?
Because here and now is who we are.
Who are we to deny that?
Why do we need to run?
To get away?
Who said that what we are right now,
Isn't what we'll always be?
If we run; we're still ourselves.
But now we're in a brand new city.
And alone.
Slightly edited stream of consciousness.
