Running in woods is scary until it’s not.
Then it’s all freedom and laughter; what if we
never stop? But after a while of running, my toes
feel worn, and I grow tired of the aching, and it seems
that the sky feels this too. She covers the forest with
shadows, shrouding us with her thick black veil, and she’s
aching too. But what for? She cries her tears of “nameless
woe”; they fall on me as if, I myself am the perpetrator.
And when it gets too cold I try my luck at running once again
but she follows me. Her breath full of husky whispers
and frustrations won’t let me go, but still I tug away.
I see the end, I’m reaching it; she’s right behind me,
She’s closing it, because the way out only has space for one
and to her, I don’t deserve it. But I’m as tired of
running as she, so why can we not just share the
key? Questions go unanswered and fade away, she’s
clutching me, and we both stay
in the silent woods,
no escape.
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