Running (Poem)

I’ve realised
I’m good at running,
at escape, hideaways, I’m so cunning
with my lies, no goodbyes, but there’s something
I can’t hide.

When my mind
is still running
in circles and my lungs won’t give up.
I swallow my pride, and look up.

This is broken.

Can’t be mend. Can’t pretend
No, not now. Or not yet.
Time will tell.
Oh, my spell
has run out.
No more running for me, no more doubt
Yet there’s doubt, and there’s fear
Oh, I wish I could disappear,
but I won’t.

Not this time.

– Katrin –

Note: This poem feels very personal to me, which is why I’m not going to tell what’s it about. Free for interpretation.

Cover photo by Craig Whitehead

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