Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Spiraling, Tumbling, Drowning

After 
    The                 
Long run over the hill,                        
I barely was able to hold my breath.                                                       
                                       
I
Couldn't
Even 
Stand.

It
was 
very    
hard to think.     

I only had the chance to hold my head up,
And listen to the music the wind created.

It was a happy sound,
A creative piece that pranced in my ears.
I
then
had
to 
run
again.

  galloped
               like a horse in his grazed field
                                                           in pursuit for his master.

This is how I realized that someone made me repeat my past,
Made me run across banks of rivers,
To the mountains of sand,
And through pathways that trees made.

It felt like steps.
It was natural to keep following this direction.
I had no destination in mind,
But a pure goal of being able to be free,
To go anywhere that I'm pleased.

This made me feel free.                 

But everything 
has

   its perks.

That was the day I wasn't able to move. I couldn't even make my fingers cringe. I only was able to make my eyes close on itself and open again to the world that spat at me in the face. It laughed. I heard the wind play its musical tune again. It mocked me now more than ever. Making me want to run again. Sadly now I'm cold as stone planted to the earthy floor. I was back on that hill again. The first hill I managed to climb. The one that made me started my journey  Now it seemed, it forced me to end my journey here. The warm hand from the sun was placed on my forehead as it could only nod towards me. The way nature presented it self to me made me want to cry all of my tears. I then cried on. And on. And on. Till my heart was filled with those pure emotions. I then couldn't stop. I sat there crying forever. 

It 
  was 
        that 
             I
              could
                      had 
                           done. 
                                    .
                                      .    









This is how a pure life ends.
In misery.
And pure with irony;
                                                                           Spiraling,
Tumbling,
And now
Drowning.





  

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