Every inhale is fire
Every exhale just tires
That next step is acid
But I'm not quite lucid
So the numbness sets in
And I decided I'm not in it to win
I'm there step on that line
Break down and cry
And just finish this cursed race
Limp afterward for days
But damn, after all this
I have to admit it was worth it
I hate half marathons
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Epiphany
Poetry"Are you calling me a sinner?" Please don't use poems without permission. Ranked #174 in Poetry 061218 Images not marked do not belong to author.
