Last Run

Running through the middle of the street,
seems safer, no shadows, less fear, the sense
of pain no less i hear.

Running from the lie, peace not found; death does
not care if you are standing up or laying down.

Running from the hurt, agony and dread, bullets
in the chest makes constant blood that is shed,
as the body’s actions wind down. No more running
for me, as i sink to the ground. Street is wet from
a newly fallen rain; the sweet taste of the street is
like nectar to my brain.

Running down the seconds like a childs wind up
toy, my life ebbs from my chest as water down
the drain. Death is a friend so close and now is
simply so clear; for the end of my life is finally
here.

Running from the pain gave me no sweet relief;
anger, then hope, then sorrow when found without
help. So i fled for my life which was already taken.

Running was wise; for her it is why i died, so her kisses
not tasted; perhaps in another life might be found.

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