Short poems

Run

Here I am.
There I was.
I used to be the kind of person that everyone loved.
Now, I'm merely just somebody.
Somebody inside of a something inside of a force.
I am something, but not somebody.

They run from me like I'm a plague.
They wait for the right time to run.
Maybe I won't notice.
Maybe I'll run too.
Perhaps I will even realize what I really am, before it's too late.
If that's the case, I would have already run.
But I haven't.

I have not run for one simple reason.
I am not sick.
I am normal.
I may not be a somebody.
But I sure as hell am a someone.