Life Inertia
This is a race.
Started out fast.
I thirst,
Chasing the finish line
Head down, face first.
Gold medal here, blue ribbon there.
First place, post game interview
I'll tell the world I'm great.
But when my feet cross the line
They say another lap, "You're getting behind".
So I struggle.
Muscles ache and lungs wheeze,
Thoughts of giving up begin to tease.
The speed is gone,
I trudge as
I try to pick up my feet.
The friction from the track catches my soul
I can't take another step
My motion has stopped
Is there something out there that wants my dead?
Or is it just all in my head?
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