Death and Run

I'm on the run from death. Death is on the run from me. What's the difference? I'm running, running eternally and there is no way I can stop, not unless I want to be caught by the blazingly painful shot. Which is highly unlikely. I've run from cities to forests, from beaches to mountains and my feet are beginning to blister like they were infected mushrooms growing mould. I can't stop or I'll die, I must keep running no matter what happens to me... or that's what I told myself.

{Still going}