In "Outrun," I delve into the intricacies of society, human connections, and my own identity through a fresh lens. This collection is an invitation to step away from the stark, black-and-white world we often find ourselves in. I seek to explore the...
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From eight 'til three, the hours bled, Feets so weak, my spirit fed. The work consumed, the mind enthralled, A prisoner to the task I hauled.
Always asked,"when are you having a break" With a dead tone in my head, Saying one of this days. Lies, I just lie to myself
But now it's done, the clock strikes three, I walk away, set free. A bird released from iron cage, I spread my wings and leave the stage.
Through empty streets where shadows roam, Drunk laughter echoes, far from home. Their revels ended, joy turned dim, While I, unshackled, begin my hymn.
My feet so weakened but, Hop out my way to get home. The breeze walk through my palm Thoughts vapour down, no longer hot.
The city's pulse, a muted beat, I wander through the silent street. The light fills the air with colour I fly, a bird in open land.
At 3:30, I walk away, On feet of the dawn, to greet a day.
