Running through the middle of the street, seems safer,
no shadows, less fear, the sense of pain no less i fear.
Running from the lie, peace not found; death does
not care if you stand up or lie down.
Running from the hurt, agony and dread, bullets
in the chest makes constant my blood that is shed,
as the body’s actions wind down, I whimper; 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 there is simply no fear; for the end of my
life as it draws steadily near.
Running from the pain gave me no sweet relief;
anger, then hope, sorrow, finally; just total release.
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 mine.