I realize I am running towards an alley of self doubt and self hate.
So I stop running.
I turn my neck around and screen my eyes for whatever has been chasing.
My stomach is clenching for all those butterflies dying.
My chest tensing from the darkness of mine heart palpitating.
My skin numbing down to the force of blood throbbing.
Whatever people offer me never fits my jigsaw.
People offer me blows.
People find ways to squander my truth deep and below.
To the neck so I can’t turn and to my lungs so I won’t wail.
If I can’t kill all the clowns I might as well burn the circus to ash.
If I can’t keep running I might as well run myself down.
I have hunted my own self for so long,
I want to take out the weakness in me.
But like hell I can fight and run!