my mind is running
heart racing
lungs heading uphill
forcing my breath into wind sprints
every time i picture that starting line-
muscles coiled laces as tight as can be
aware of the pain ahead but never its magnitude-
my body brings itself to the trail
in a state of perpetual
uncertainty
and i am running
or my heart is
before the starting gun even goes off
YOU ARE READING
metamorphosis
Poetrya collection of poetry written during quarantine, the tumultuous 2020 school year, and the entering into a post-covid world. randomly updated.
